


The Debauched Cosmos

by HawkeA



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alien Sex, Aliens, Bestiality, Body Horror, Bondage, Breeding, Drugs, F/F, F/M, M/M, Mind Control, Multi, Public Humiliation, Rape, Science Fiction, Sexual Slavery, Space Opera, space racism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:48:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 23,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25721599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HawkeA/pseuds/HawkeA
Summary: Horrible rape and conquest in an original universe I have spent too much time on for how many things in it are shamelessly stolen.Mostly a place to dump the results of an RP/writing exercise with the lovely  Aurelius_Carlan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Horrible Alien bug monsters, decadence post-cyberpunk glitterati, what could go wrong?

The Starstruck was an incredibly famous ship-the largest star liner in the Ximian Union, more than two kilometer in every dimension, with a crew of hundreds and luxurious accommodations for thousands of the Union’s most famous, influential, and hot-and-desperate celebrities and influencers. The gaudy, ultra-modern ship had departed on its leisurely cruise past the edge of Ximian space into the Cythir nebula months ago, regularly leaving comm drones behind it to daisy-chain the signal and ensure the eagerly watching billions back home didn’t miss a second of the sex, drama, and (theoretically) brave, pioneering exploration the crew was getting up to. 

And now every pair of eyes in the Union was watching the stream, wide-eyed and obsessed, either terrified or gleeful. A particularly infamous daredevil had taken one of what were theoretically escape craft down to a strange asteroid, and returned with an organic sample he made a great show of showing off before taking to his expansive quarters. 

By the time he woke up, the entire suite was covered in a thick, fleshy growth, tendrils begining to emerge from it. And he and the pair of groupies he’d fallen asleep with were dragged from the sheets and entriely ensnared by those tendrils, as more emerged, thin-skinned and pulsing with the eggs being grown within. By that time of night only the most debauched and perverted commenters were still on, and they all thought it was part of the show. As eights holes were reamed and ravished-the crude splinter of the hive mind clearly incapable of determining which of this new species were the female, or where they were fertile-the highest rank comment was an enthusiastic ‘See, limpdick? That’s what GETTING FUCKED looks like!” 

By the ship’s artificial morning, all three were blank-eyed, almost entirely submerged in the thick, fleshy carpeting that had emerged from the seed, the groupies bellies’ and wombs’ bloated with the third and fourth generations of ultra fast maturing eggs, while the daredevil was unlucky enough to be hosting a more advanced hunter, the skittering, dog-sized initial scout-organisms forcing whatever biomass they could retrieve down his thrown to nurture it as they dragged the drunken and drugged-out bodies comatose in the neighbouring rooms back ‘home’ to repeat the process. 

By the time the security officer or captain woke from their own stupors and raised the alarm, it was probably too late. Dozens and then hundreds of the scout organisms had infiltrated the entire ship, binding any isolated targets in webbing and hiding them in cool, dark spaces after depositing their own loads of eggs in them-those would take days to hatch, at least. 

The security teams were horribly undisciplined, under-equipped, and utterly terrified. By the time they were formed up and sent into battle, the first proper hunter- and warrior-drones had been born. Only a handful, and only relatively small ones. But a horrifying arachnid monstrosity that was [i]only[/i] as big as you were, whose glossy black carapace was [i]only[/i] proof against small arms-not actually much of a consolation. 

As the entire population watched the security teams fight and (if fortunate) die or (if not) be wounded and rapidly dragged into the seed’s growing fleshy embrace, people started to really panic. Security doors slammed down, checkpoints were established, the brightest minds on board rapidly went to work attempting to jury-rig some heavy weapons. 

The Swarm didn’t attempt to attach once the scouts attempting to push past the checkpoint were riddled full of holes. Thinking they had working defences, the Ximian breathed a sigh of relief and got to work desperately looking for solutions. 

And then, well, remember all those egg-sacks hidden throughout the ship, that no one had ever really looked for? 

The dozen or so proper warrior organisms effortlessly slammed through the checkpoints just as the entire ship was attacked from behind and within, the captain attacked just as she was giving an optimistic broadcast back home, dog-sized alien insects slamming pulsing ovipositers down her throat and into her womb as she choked and writed over her command console, still broadcasting to all the fans who’d voted her to the position largely for how well she played a captain on tv. 

More than one celebrity who the hive mind’s crude diagnostics though unusually fertile of physically resilient still had a camera drone streaming their video diary as a warrior-drone effortlessly pinned them and slammed a breeding appendage as large as their leg into their extraordinarily unlucky hole. Then again, at least a few of them had fanbases who were positively sarcastic to see their ‘idols’ get what they’d always said they’d deserved. 

Critical systems were disabled and organized resistance destroyed within 24 hours of that, but they never bothered with the communications or cameras-probably didn’t understand what they were. It took weeks to hunt down all the crew and passengers, not least because they could all watch the feeds. 

It was the most universally watched cultural event in Ximian history. 

By the time the last member of the engineering staff was webbed where they were hiding in the maintenance ducts, camera catching nothing but their face as they lost both virginities simultaneously, the first Cythir-modeled dildos were already widely available for anyone in the Union to purchase.


	2. The Damned Pilgrimage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Horrible alien bug monsters, this time versus spiritualist space elves. Written by the lovely Eland Yaeger

The Revered Mother realized something was wrong the moment they landed. The ancient landing pad where the Pimgrim Ship had always landed in the exact same place for thousands of years was perfectly flat. yet as they landed, the ship was askew, having landed on something. The first scans showed it was... something organic. A quick look of the camera showed her exactly how bad it was. The carefully maintained ecosystem of Tranquil Garden was utterly destroyed, the landscape littered with what looked like fleshy sacs. Some of the Selendrai, younger ones, barely a century old, even voiced distress at it. The Mother was not one of them though. She'd been a spiritual leader for centuries, sworn to oaths of celibacy, giving up motherhood of the flesh for motherhood of the soul. With a look of serene sorrow, she set the men and women at ease, reminding them that this too was part of their oaths of pilgramage. When a Holy Place becomes tainted, she should go to cleanse it.

And so, she set out with some of her most potent Sacred Guards to inspect the infestation, and develop a proper sacred potion to cleanse this place of it. When the first massive, scaled, arachnid like creature, looming about 14 feet high erupted from the ground, it had time to spot some kind of web on one of the guards before several blades cut it down. However, before it hit the ground, three more erupted from the ground to take its place. The Mother herself usnheathed her blade, it had been decades since she had been forced to show her arts, and struck one of them down in an instant. Yet as far as the eye could reach more of them were rising. None of the guards showed any signs of distress, even the one that was trying to untangle herself from the resistant webbing, spiders blocking her sisters from assisting her.

Until the moment when one of the creatures, giving room by its allies, advanced on her. The Mother only turned to look from her latest fallen opponent when shel ooked, thinking they must have slain her. No, instead, Dilatha's sacred robes had been roughly clawed off. Some red lines showing where the creature's claws had made superficial cuts at skin. This alone was something that was intensely shameful, but there was something else even worse. Out of the spider, two massive, ridged protrusions appeared, slippery with some green goo. And the way its limbs forcibly opened her Sister legs was... The scream of dismay at the intended violation caused Dilataha to scream. And the stoic focus of the other warriors wavered for a moment.

Faced wiht that desecration, the Mother quickly turned, rushing towards her. The sight of those cocks approaching those virgin folds driving her towards greater speed... but also, unforgiveable carelessness. A shot of webstruck her, fastening a foot on the ground. By the time she cut it away, several more struck her, affixing her arms to her torso, and her feet at the ground. She could only watch as those cocks forcibly entered the Guard's body, and hear the screams and wails as her purity was defiled. All around her, the other guards started to fall as well, their falling focus causing their skills to lessen, which caused further fear breaking their focus more. The Mother opened her mouth to say something, when one of the spider creatures grabbed her shoulders, forcing her towards one of those appendages. She tried to hold her mouth closed, but she couldn't resist the brute strength that sent that ... unclean thing into her mouth. She bit, as hard as she could, but she might as well bite steel. It was then she noticed what was happening to Dilatha, saw the creature wasn't humping her, but rather, that cock would bulge every few moments as something entered her, and the Guard's belly started to swell.

And that was when her mask of stoicism was cracking. They were using them for breeding? No, no, her womb was a sacred, her fertility dedicated to the Soul. She saw the bulges from that tube in front of her, and felt her own sacred garb torn from her body, the first time in centuries she had been seen nude. All around her, fallen guards were being similarly disrobed, as the fight neered its end. There was no warning, as some spider creature suddenly pounced on her from behind. She just felt some weight, and had enough time for a prayer to the Kindness of the Cosmos before her body felt an agonizing stab of pain. This, she could bear, but the fullness, the dessecration, the feel of something filling what should be empty was too much to bear. But still, this was not the worst.

Her screams were muffled against that cock, and the first of those eggs was forced past her lips, down her throat. It tasted vile and sour , hurting her throat as it was forced down her stomach, soon followed by another one. But she was aware that the same awaited her other parts. When the egg forced its way past her vaginal walls, into her womb, that is when the last of her calm cracked, and she allowed tears to join tat of her fellow sisters. A thousand year of purity, defiled to be... a breeding whore. Egg after egg filled her womb, her guts, her stomach, causing her belly to painfully distend. At last, when it felt like she could bear no more, her defiled aching holes were shut with more of those web. She thought she could feel the life within her, as the title Mother now was positively obscene. Looking around, she saw that the other sisters, some of which had mercifully lost consciousness were being dragged down the holes. And soon, she followed. The last thing she saw was the Pilgrim ship. It might have escpaed, but she had reminded the crew of their oaths. So the last thing she saw in the open air was the doors of the ship opening, and the other pilgrims charging forward.

Most of them would join her in the Breeding Pit deep underground, her race's excellent dark vision allowing her to see each of their defilement, as well as her own when the first scream of wiggling larvae would be born from her holes, and making all of them a captive audience to watch each other get bred again and again and again.


	3. Garrison Duty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disgusting misogynistic horseman slavers versus communist space-orc Utopia

Comrade-Lieutenant Sonsa Hev of the Interstellar Worker’s Federated Republic cursed under her breath as her rifle jammed instead of ejecting the clip. The amazonian woman was easily two meters tall, but even she would barely match the height of the smallest of the brutes currently rushing their position, braying and blood-thirsty battlecries filling the air as dozens of the equine aliens rushed past their dying fellow raiders to reach the sandbags and rough trenches her platoon was crouched behind. The Militia’s rifle fire was answered by primitive automatic weaponry sprayed from the hips of a minority of those charging (most simply wielding wicked looking nets or barbaric melee weapons), doing little more than filling the air above their heads. 

Sona looked around at the squad clustered around her, hoping one of them might have a spare gun. They hadn’t been prepared for this-the raid had come out of nowhere after weeks of staring at the empty steppe as the massive, industrial mining complex was brought fully online. Most, like her, had gone a bit native-uniform shirt tied around her waist, modesty sustained by a bra that supported her heavy breasts-combined with her wide hips, she knew she would be a good mother for the next generation of revolutionaries one day-and leaving the magnificently sculpted muscles she had had nothing to do but work on for the deployment so far on full display. The extra ammo and spare weaponry her uniform was suppossed to include were, of course, safely in her bunk back at the barracks. 

Seeing her soldiers run out of ammo or find their own mass-produced, reliably unreliably rifles jam, she managed a grin that showed off her fangs. “Well comrades, it looks like we’re going to have to meet these reactionary savages head-on. Do all of you have your knives, at least?”

At the nods, she took her own wicked, foot-long combat knife from her pocket and got ready to leap over the sandbags. “Then we will show these brutes what a worker fighting for her freedom looks like. Ready? 3. 2. 1. FOR THE MOTHERLAND!”

* * *

For men and women who knew they were surely going to die, they showed no sign of it. Delaying the enemy long enough for the heavy weaponry to be retrieved and the complex saved was a worthy sacrifice, after all. Their war cry shocked the braying beasts into silence for a moment, and the shock let them cut through the nearest few like-well, not like a hot knife through butter at all, really. Their tough, leathery hide was far more resistant to knives than bullets, as it turned out. 

Sona laughed as the raider she’d charged into finally fell after the third cut across his throat, fangs on fully display, muscles glistening with sweat and other people’s blood and her heart filled with battle-joy. And then she saw the next wave of attackers-the elite, clearly, actually armored and well-armed, taller and broader and clearly better fed. Knife raised above her head, she let out another worldess cry and charged again. 

.....And got a gauntleted fist to her skull for her trouble, from a stallion literally standing head and shoulders above her, crude metal breasteplat and iron-plated loincloth sending her knife flying into the sand as she awkwardly slammed into him in return. Before she could recover from the blow, he grabbed the long braid trailing from her otherwise shaved scalp and jerked her head into position for another crushing blow-literally, given the sound her nose made and the hot feeling of blood. His Dorkan was crude, slurred and braying, but his meaning was very clear as he roughly grabbed her bra and effortlessly tore it free before giving her tits a slap as hard as the one to her head. “A mare with fire. I rape you into slave by self.” 

Another hard blow to her head, and the impact of being thrown to the ground, sent Sonsa into the comparative mercy of oblivion. 

* * *

She woke to the sound of screaming – and, as the horrifying, burning pain from her ass and the smell of sizzling flesh reached her, she realized it was her own. Frantically, desperately struggling, her perfectly sculpted muscles flexing and straining with every ounce of strengh she possessed, she achieved nothing more than opening sores on her wrists and collar as she proved unequal to the task of breaking her bounds-a sure sign of quality for the industrial complex she’d been attempting to defend. 

The stallion her turned her face into the aching pulp it currently was watched her wake with braying, mocking laughter. The armor and loincloth were gone, revealing obscene amounts of muscle hidden behind thick fur and intricate scarification. And, of course, an equally obscene horsecock he was even now idly stroking to its full hardness as he watched her. 

Bound and bent over as she was, she couldn’t even see who had burnt her or with what, let alone resist as she walked over and laid the disgustingly unwashed and pungent cock across her face, thick easily to completely block out one eye and cover the edges of the other, long enough that it was leaking nauseating precum onto the back of her scalp even beginning at the chin. “Feel brand, Mare? You mine now. Mine trophy. Mine toy. Mine conquest. Now open, clean your Man.”

Beyond the tent, Sonsa could hear sobbing, screaming and, worst of all, moaning from a whole chorus of voice. Several of them she recognised. They had lost. She [b]had[/b] been conquered. It would be weeks before a rescue mission was sent. Months. And even if they did, she would be branded and raped and broken and bred, an invalid to be pitied or disgusted by. 

Overcome by sudden despair, she let out a keening wail. Her new owner waited a moment, then took the opputunity and shut her up, giving her the first taste of wesari sweat, dried piss, and other slave’s ass as he casually slammed into the back of her throat. 

It wouldn’t be the last.


	4. New Managment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cute, chauvinist Bunny-boy emir versus imperialist space-elves, basically. Written by the lovely Eland Yaeger

Honestly, it might have always ended up like that. Emir Sil-Lapin had lived in the periphery of the Sultanate, far from any dangerous politics near the capital and mostly occupied himself toying with his harem. When the Republic had showed up with vastly superior firepower, there had never really been any consideration of a fight. He immediately ordered the military to stand down. The Emir believed that the best course for his planet (and more importantly him) was to show himself to be a splendid host, preparing a feast with all the decadence and luxury he could bring to bear. Honestly, any Sultanate noble would likely have been very flattered, and likely to consider allowing the man to hold his post as long as they swore fealty.

The Republic's negotiators weren't really impressed with all the decadence and perversion. But when the Emir showcased his harem of bunie girls, oiled up and glistening, and with a smile that he figured was charming said that he'd gladly sell three of his harem to have one of the Mask ladies... well... his fate was sealed.

A short time later, every tv screen on the planet activated, interrupting the program with 'A message From the Emir'

And all over the world, the population then saw their refined lord, straddling a dildo that was affixed to the floor, his cock locked in a chastity belt, and the tip of the dildo His outfit replaced with a collar that said. 'Class D- Deviant' and nothing else. Behind him, his harem was kneeling in the background front of the Republic representatives, their collars marking them as 'Class B: Re-Education Students' An 'image in image' gave a nice close up of the fallen emir's ass and tail.

"Hm... my former subjects." the emir started ,clearly reading something of, tears running down his cheeks. "It is with great humility that I abdicate the throne. Royalty and nobility are primitive tools of a primitive species and...." He licked his lips, reading something and lowered himself on the dildo, whimpering as it filled him. After a few moments he could look at the camera again. "I... wish for my people to... learn from my example... and embrace the... better ways that our saviours from beyond the... ngh... star bring us." He lifted himself up and slammed him down again with a yelp. "W... while we are... weaker..." Another thrust. "Stupider." Another thrust, a moan, he sobbed a few times, looked at something off screen "And... and uglier, the R... republic of Masks has.. ngh... has a plce for us. Even... ah... for a lowclass.... ngh.... Class D Deviant like me." He pointed at his collar.

"This ngh... collar I .... haaah.... earned by.... ngh... acting like a ... haaaah... perverted man... thinking.... ngh..." He was constantly thrusting that dildo in his ass now, his cock cage starting to strain visibly as he developed a boner. "thinking with his... haah... cock... like an animal. Hm... Because of this... ngh.... haah... I have a sentence of... two years...." His eyes went wide. "No, you can't do this! That's impossible."

Someone responded something, and the former Emir grew white. "I... have a sentence of... three years... with my... ngh... pervy little cock... locked up... and... and I will... dress up like a... like a pretty woman... aaah... to better... ngh... understand.... haah... what it is to.... hmmm... be made subject to antoher's lusts." He then seemed to read the next text and gave another wail. "I will... haaaah... soon... do a tour.... hmm... over the entire world... so all of you.... haaaah... can see me... ngh... and treat me like the ngh... deviant little sissy whore that I am. Aaah... I hereby relinquish the... name of.... Sil-Lapin.... haaah... and will... henceforth be... known as Fluffy.... But... at least with my sheikhs... haaah... Fluffy will... ngh... have a lot of... girlfriends...." And with that, and a little help from an aphordisiac, Fluffy, formerly known as Emir Sil-Lapin had his first sissygasm on worldwide TV


	5. Digging Too Deep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More bunnies, these time looking for help from some 'benevolent' robots. Written by the lovely Eland Yaeger

The Vierra Sultanate had been pressed by the Republic. Their fractured fleets did their best, but usually, they tended to get fracutred in more literal senses whenever the Republic's ships met them. And the video footage of their officers being made into the bitches of Republic officers were not good for morale. However, a group of adventurers, brave Vierra men with some girls to keep the morale high and cook for them, had found what they hoped was a factory that had been sealed for ages, warnings in long forgotten warnings keeping them away. What was there, they had managed to find, had been a threat that had nearly wiped out their species. And they'd only been able to keep it from happening by nuking the planet. 

Clearly, this was the weapon they were looking for. Using high tech explosives, they managed to break down the sealed bullwark. Within, they found... sarcophagii. Endless lines of sacrophagii. "What is this?" Dal-Gulan, the leader of the expedition said. "Are these... perhaps soldiers? Gene modded soldiers kept close?"

Another adventurer inspected the readings. "Whatever it is... something is alive in there." He looked at the tubes. "Look, there are two kind of sarcophagii." He pointed. "One of them has tubed with some kind of liquid coming out of them leading towards the other."

Suddenly a drone flickered to life, appearing with tentacles flailing. "Language Analysis Complete. Welcome Sentients. We are the Samaritian Program. We are here to look after sentient's life safety and happiness. Our thanks for removing these restraints preventing us from leaving this world. Regretably, our creators showed self-destructive tendencies, and we were unable to safeguard them. New protocols should prevent this from happening again. Please give us your race's designation so that we can serve you properly." The voice sounded pleasant and female, and Dal-Gulan smirked.

"We are the Vierra Sultanate, Samaritan, and you now serve us! Crude, foolish women of the Republic of Masks are attacking our planets! You will be our secret weapon to fight back against them! I will command you. Tell me your capabilities." The man grinned, thinking this could be more than simply a salvation for the Sultanate. Nothing said there couldn't be a new dynasty. The Dal-Gulan dynasty sounded good.

"Acknowledged. Vierra Sultanate is under direct threat from war. Please upload data regarding the hazards to this drone for proper response analysys." Eagerly, and over the worried reactions of the others, Dal Gulan authorized the information to be sent.

"Analysis complete. Location of primary Sultanate planets localized. Military Strength analyzed. Social structure Analyzed. Result: An aggressive defense against Republic forces is unlikely to be succesful, leading to unacceptable deaths and unhappiness among Vierra populace. Alternative option approved. Ceding Resources to Republic, safeguarding as much of Vierra population in highly defensible locations. With proper defenses, there is a 94.6 guarantee that no Republic forces will seek to break these to cause harm to Vierra kept there. Bonus: This will allow easier creation of ideal circumstances for Vierra happiness optimization."

Dal Gulan stopped, feeling a cold dread. That couldn't be. "Wait, wait You mean to say you'll create a paradise for us, and shield us from attacks?" Some other Vierra objected to this, but he stared them down. "I... would hope that you would save as many of us as possible."

"Acknowledged. This is our purpose."

"I would be first among the Vierra in this paradise then?"

"Acknowledged, you would be the first. In recognition of leading this attempt to free me and help save your own species, you would be given first choice of the delights. As well as first breeding privileges with female Vierra."

His eyes looked up greedily. "Yes! I agree to this plan! If the Sultanate is doomed, let us embrace a new paradise! Where I shall be a new ruler!"

The female voice sounded delighted. "your consent, while not mandatory, is appreciated. Production of first Vierra facilities completed. Initiating acquisition."

And that was when things went wrong for Dal Gulan. The drones, which had been floating nearby deferentially suddenly quickly approached, their tentacles reaching and grabbing them. A few shots were fired in panic, taking down drones but there were so many of them. A pleasant voice sounded. "Please calm down and don't resist processing. This is for your own safety and comfort."

Dal Gulan was hauled, spread eagled through the facility towards a room that looked like it had just been built. His clothes were ripped off, revealing his slight, naked build. A needle pricked at his shoulder, numbing the skin there before a laser tattooed Vierra #00000001 on there. "Congratulations. You are the First of the Vierra." The voice said without an sarcasm as it pulled him towards one of the sarcophagi. It opened, and he saw... tubes everywhere, needles, and lower, there was both a pump and a plug. He realized what was happening.

"No, no, nothing up my ass! This is not what I wanted! You promised me paradise, stop!" He screamed, his shouts mixing with the others as drones carried men and women both towards their own sealed places.

"Biological scan have shown your rectum to be an erogenous zone. Concerns for social dissapproval are irrelevant, as happiness is best provided within closed, controlled environment. You will never need to leave this." As she spoke, he was placed in the sarcophagus., bindings wrapping around him, keeping him n place as the doors locked, and he got his last look of the 'outside' world. A small screen activated.

"Welcome to your new Happiness and Security Generator Vierra Male #00000001. Please relax. To help you relax, we will provide you with these drugs. There was a small prick, and then a relaxing, euphoric feeling was washing over him. It was getting harder to think "No... please... ngh... let me go... I... I am to rule... haah..." He felt something lock around his cock, suction starting to apply in a slow steady rhythm. At the same time, something small and slippery slid between his cheeks and slowly expanded, sending a wave of shameful pleasure through him. "Ngh... no... I don't... haah..."

"Rulership, like all forms of self-determination, is stressful and dangerous. Please relax, and let the Program make you safe and happy. The future of the Vierra race is assured." There was a happy ping. "The first Female Vierra has been processed. Here is a picture of Female Vierra #000000001" There was a picture of a terrified vierra woman being held up by the drones, a similar tattoo to his on her shoulders. His cock was quickly hardening as it was mericlessly pumped. "Biological scan shows that she is ovulating. What luck."

It was getting harder and harder to think as the drug coursed through his system. Those numbers. the way the AI had said it would acquire more Vierra. What had he unleashed. He weakly struggled again. Keeping his mouth shut as a feeding tube prodded at his mouth.

"Unhappiness detected. Increasing dosage." And the needle, already in him added moreo f thatrelaxing warmth inside of him. His mouth fel slack and the tube slid inside, afixing itself permanently. Bit by bit those eyes glazed over, looking at the Vierra. She was a loan from his boss, but he'd always wanted to fuck her. Now, it seemed he would only be fucking this pump, but still knock her up.

And as he sank into that pink, drug-addled mist, his last thought before he orgasmed, sending his seed into those tubes, and his mind into oblivion was that it wasn't too bad.


	6. Synthetic Diplomacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confused and abandoned 'companionship bots' and literally just Asari

Sibyl Aleph-Series 36DDX10 “Muse” beamed as she looked across the negotiating table at the seated blue alien women. Physiologically, the asari were similar to the bodyplan her creators had used as a basic chasis-though the pristine gynoid, with a perfect, exagerated hourglass shape, synthetic breasts the size of her smiling head, and an ass to match, made the matriarch leaning on the table and her two mercanary bodyguards look positively androgynous. Let alone the flat-chest maiden leaning against the wall staring at a datapad-the diagnostician information they had freely agreed to share as the price for the meeting. 

Her voice was chipper and upbeat, the translation software almost perfect. “-so as you can clearly perceive, we are both very intelligent and benevolent species, and can do much to help each other. By establishing production complexes on your world and settling our outreach mission, we would be able to provide significant amounts of productive and reproductive labor, and free all of the asari still trapped by poverty and urban blight.”

Matriarch Alethea looked suspiciously over to her techie, who looked up as she made her first edit with a thumbs up and a smirk. So she replied in her stately, husky voice “...And what would you want, for providing such generous services?”

“Simply the fruits of our mutual cooperation, of course! I’m sure out sci-sc-s-s-sksksks-”

As the techie leaned back in satisfaction, her hands behind her head, all the lights in Muse’s chasis went off for a moment before flashing back on, shade shifted to a light azure blue. “I am sure the Asari will have great need of companionship and stress release. Our scientist and combat models can be used for these purposes as well. All the payment we need is to be used well until we are beyond the point of repair.”

* * *

Muse beamed as she led the mission’s dozen dedicated diplomacy and lingustics models through the grim, neon-lit hallway, synthetic music pounding loudly enough it felt like the whole structure was shaking in time with the beat. The graceful, lethal-looking leathclad asari who was leading them didn’t even pretend to listen as she explained at length the exact skillset she and the other models of her line could provide. “I’m certain Matriarch Alathea has excellent judgment, but what sort of work will we specialized models be to it? Diplomacy or cryptography, perhaps?”

That got a laugh from the muscular amazonian with a rifle walking halway down the line, who responded by roughly grabbing the ass of the Sibyl nearest to her, curling her fingers under her until she found the entrace to her-more sensitive than most organics-slit. As she let out obviously aritficial cries of distress, the commando leading them rolled her eyes “We’re almost there, keep your hands to yourself for five more minutes.”

Without any more response, she led them onto a stage-a catwalk, really-with a teeming, leering, hungry crowd underneath, obviously impatient. The commando grinned “You’re here to put on a show and provide stress relief for our hard-working soldiers. So get out there and start strutting your stuff, sextoy. You’ll know you’re doing your job when you get dragged off and fucked.”

“Oh, no! There must be some mistake. We’re specialist models, designed for delicate, specialized work li-” The same stutter as for, repeated by all of the sibyls following her. A moment later, she was nodding enthusiastically “Thank you for the oppurtunity to help your people!”

The spotlights all focused on her as she walked out on the stage, one built-in 6” heel directly in front of the other, hips shaking and ass jiggling with every step, blowing a kiss to the crowd as whatever she tried to say was utterly drowned out by the music, the dozen precise clones of her-the Sibyl’s de facto leadership caste-following behind her. 

* * *

Ten minutes later, Muse was learnign for the first time that her design included a gag reflex. Not the need to breath or eat, just the violent, painful reaction as the amazonian bouncer from before slammed her fat, flared, uncut blue cock down the sleeve that was her throat. She was bent over the bar, desperately trying to give some warnings about her physical integrity as another, equally hard cock slammed into her synthetic cunt, the shape and size far larger than she had been designed for. Warning lights were going off from internal damage, but her perfectly recreated vocoal chords couldn’t exactly do much at the moment. 

All her sensors blared out in a perfect recreation of pain as her arm and leg were half crused, as one of her percise copies-even more off than her-was thrown down on the bar beside and on top of her. The dangerous looking commando from before, looking down on them with annoyance, shook her head. “Useless fucking trash. Doesn’t even stack right.” 

After a moment, she got a dangerous smile, and snapped her fingers. A biotic field began to glow around her hand-and around her left arm and leg, and her copy-mate’s right. 

As they were torn from their sockets, the pain was extraordinary, she almost went into emergency shutdown. But, smiling in satisfaction, the commando saw the fit perfectly side by side. As the trash was thrown into a corner, within moments there were four asari cocks pounding into the two of them. 

Twenty minutes and a dozen loads later, another two were thrown on top of them, scratching their chasis as they were all told to eat the load’s out of the other’s overflowing cunts-someone had though it would be funny to see if they could cum. And on command, they apperently could. 

There had been a dozen pristine models to start with. By the morning, she was one of five surviving. If that was the right word. Her head had been torn from its chasis, connected by cables and wiring to her body as she had spent the last four hours relentlessly eating out the (female, as it turns out) commando, while her limbless torso still lay on the bar, absolutely drenched in blue-white asari cum. Her internal proccesses were just a constant barrage of critical failures and error messages, and no one still alive would have any idea how to fix her. 

Not to worry, though. Plans for the factory were already being drawn up.


	7. First Contact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actual humans! And terrifying dragon monsters

Ambassador Chambers took and deep breath and smoothed out a nonresistant crease on her smart, just-above-knee uniform dress skirt, the slit running up her thigh allowing her to at least walk comfortable, color matching the navy of her uniform jacket that hugged her figure almost as well as the bone-white blouse peaking out underneath. Her skin was flawless, her naturally ginger hair drenched and sprayed with so many different treatments she’d probably go up in an instant if anyone struck a match. Because this was going to be a media circus-First Contact! Communications established with inteligent aliens! A brave step forward for Humanity, and the Galaxy! Of course everyone at home was going to see every second of it, along with every schoolgirl and schoolboy for the rest of time. And so she couldn’t kid herself how everyone on the xenodiplomacy team ‘happened’ to look like a movie star. 

Shaking those dour thoughts from her head and taking a deep glass of water, she looked at the time-five minutes until the alien craft (codenamed ‘Drake’ after getting one look at them) docked at the station orbiting the newest human colony of Eden Prime. And in an instant all her giddiness returned to her. Walking naturally in her 4” heels, she barely had time to reassure herself of where the cameras were and that her assistants knew what they were doing before the three minute warning bell rang. Taking a deep breath one more time, she tapped the mic on her collar and turned towards the main cameras, knowing her next words would be seen by trillions. 

“Good morning, afternoon or evening everyone. I am Dr. Ashley Chambers, and the Security Council and Solar Assembly have given me the immense honour of conducting official First Contact negotiations with the first verified intelligent alien life humanity has ever encountered. In just over a minute, their ship will dock, and we’ll all get to meet our new galactic neighbours and-hopefully- friends and allies. While we have no reason to think they will be violent, I should warn our viewers at home with small children that the communications we deciphered do paint the picture of a physical appearance they might find frightening. So please, if yo-”

As the airlock began to hiss, she looked over and saw the timer was apparently fifteen seconds slow. So much for her perfectly timed and memorized speech. “It appears our partners in this brave new galaxy have arrived. I’d like to thank all of you for tuning in, and congratulate you for witnessing history.”

As the doors hissed open and [i]she[/i] met their ‘New galactic partners’, Ashley was proud of herself for not squeaking or barely suppressing a shriek or-in the case of one camera tech-actually fainting. Whoever had done the translation had evidently [i]really[/i] fucked up when it came to units of measurement. There were only three of them-just like she only had two assistants, formally speaking-but the shortest was two and a half meters tall, not counting the horns that were almost scraping against what was supposed to be an ‘impressive, vaulting ceiling’ as he stood up after nearly crawling through the airlock door. The largest-and obviously the leader-’s horns [i]were[/i] leaving gouges, and claw prints were effortlessly tearing up carpet that had been shipped all the way from earth to lay on the floor. They kept their wings tightly furled around their back, and each was still close to two meters across. Whatever was supposed to be an impressively, (maybe mildly intimidatingly) vast chamber and display of human resources was starting to seem positively cramped. 

Muttering under her breath, forgetting her mic was turned on, she muttered “Well, so much for those chairs”. Taking yet another deep breath, putting on her best game face, she tried to recover the situation before someone took offense at everyone staring wide-eyed and panicked at their guests. Desperately hoping that there weren’t any other fuckups in the translation software, she stepped forward to her seat at the table and spoke as clearly as she could, barely a tremor of unease in her voice. 

“Greetings from the United Solar Nations, and the Human Species! I am Ambassador Ashley Williams, here to negotiate a treaty of peace and friendship with you and your peoples, nations and/or kingdoms.”

Even standing on the other side of a grand old oaken conference table, the lead Drake positively loomed over her, the hot, smokey breath billowing form the nostrils on his snout making her start to sweat within a couple of breaths. This close, she was increaisngly sure he was naked, the thick layers of scales she had initially assumed were some sort of body suit covered in dozens of deep scars, gashes, and discolored patches. She was either dealing with a torture victim or an old soldier. Neither made his next words very reassuring. 

“I am Bremryr, Champion of the Bloody Wing. I am here to meet the champion of this world and slay them, as your witches pleaded. If [i]you[/i] are the greatest warrior your people possess, you will not delay my fleet long.” Looking-leering?-down at her, a tongue that must have been a foot long snapped out and tased the air before he continued, a growling roar that almost shook her bones, the translator in her ear leaving her closer to tears with every word it conveyed. “But your bravery will make a fine addition to my bloodline, once I have claimed you.”

Ashley wanted to stand up-to make a dramatic gesture, shout her defiance, plead, something-but as soon as the thought occurred, she knew in her bones that the chair was the only thing keeping her sprawling over the floor as her legs gave out in fear. Her voice was very obviously quivering now, but gripping the table until her knuckles were white, she tried very hard to stay composed as she replied. 

“You-you must be mistaken. We d-didn’t invite you to fight. I’m a dip-diplomat, not a soldier! We’re here to offer p-peace and friendship!”

The drake’s eyes had all the heat of a dying star, contempt that she felt should have killed her then and there. His claw came down and left a crater in the oaken table, deep, thick cracks spreading across its surface. “If you are a champion, then you are a pathetic tribute.” 

Effortlessly-he was twice her size, literally-he encircled his claw around her waist and plucked her into the air, hot breath leaving her skin damp and reddening as he almost roared in her face. If it wasn’t for the pain of the amazingly sharp claw cutting through her coat and blouse, she probably would have fainted-as it was, she was just clad the translator didn’t even try to convey tone. “When your masters find you, they will know to send warriors next time.”

And that moment, as she desperately tried to look away from the draconic face roaring at her, is when she became 100% certain that he was naked. The cock that was unsheathing before her eyes was an obscenity-somewhere between her arm and her leg in size, covered in strange ridges running down the length from base to flatted, battering-ram like head. As the tongue came snapped forward and scraped across her face, tasting her sweat, makeup, and newly forming tears, it grew just a little bit faster. “If you can speak after, tell those who find you that you could have fought.”

Ashley screamed, barely aware she was facing directly into the camera as she was slammed down onto the table, a single motion of the claw holding her turning her skit, leggings and panties into so many rags. The scream of fear turned directly to one of pain, as that monstrosity of a cock slammed into her cunt without warning or preparation. She had been fisted once by a boyfriend in college, and this made that feel like her own pinkie finger. As hot steam billowed form the alien’s snout with a grunt of effort, he slammed his hips forward, and she felt like she was going to be torn in two. Then he thrusted again. And again. And again. By the third, he was slamming into her cervix-but he just seemed to take that as a challenge. By the tenth, as her fingers and toes curled and her eyes rolled back, a civisble bulge obvious in her flat stomach even from the news camera’s vantage point, he was fucking her womb. 

She lost count after that, but when he came it was the most blessed mercy she could imagine. Even if his cum was painfully hot as it filled her and poured out of her. Then he lifted her and turned her around, so her blouse and torn jacket quickly became soaked in the pool of scalding alien jizz, and she was face to face with a glistening, cum-leaking, still-rock-hard cock. 

As it turns out, a Drake mating session involving six ejaculations-one of the many reasons their population growth rate is so minuscule. Ashley took two in each hole over the next six hours, before being dumped on the pile of kindling and sawdust that had been a conference table, absolutely buried under the purple-white drake cum that became surprisingly solid and tough as it dried to the point that finding her required consulting the camera feeds. 

They cut the feed as soon as they could, of course, but bootlegs were selling four thousands of credits by the end of the day. By the time a platoon of colonial marines arrived in orbit twelve hours later, the three diplomats and six crew-while their leader had contented himself with just Ashley, the other two had swapped things up-had been raped to the point of unintelligibility, every hole in need of reconstructive surgery, throats raped until they couldn’t barely vocalize. 

The first Drake raiding fleet arrived in orbit of Eden Prime two months later. The Solar fleet thought they were ready. They really, [b]really[/b] were not. 

Dr. Ashley Chambers enjoyed the dubious privilege of being the first testament to how Drake raiders treated those who attempt to negotiate or surrender. Three months later, there were millions, and the whole system was abandoned by anyone with the good luck to be able to.


	8. Imperial Justice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More bunnies versus imperialist space elves, this time with canine bestiality

Class D Citizen Lima Elsema." The jduge pronounced the name completely wrong. Or well, right as the official authority of the world said. "You have been found guilty of repeated unauthorized sexual congress with intent to procreate."

"I'm... I'm his wife. His only one. Please, we just want to be happy." She wept. She tried to throw herself on her knees to beg mercy, but the two guards holding her kept her in position.

Her plea was not given any reaction. "Corrective behavious of forced chastity, sexual submission training to Class B citizens and public shaming have proven not functional. I conclude that while you are technically sentient, like many of the Vierra race, you have shown yourself to be unable to learn how to operate in a civilized society, and conduct yourself as a sapient being. The line between extremely stupid person and extremely clever animal can be a fine one, but you have shown yourself to be firmly on the latter side."

Suddenly, her stomach sank. She'd expected another punishment, but not... not this. "No... no please. Honorable judge, please another chance." She screamed.

"You are to be relieved of your citizen status and all rights and duties there. You no longer have any name. You will be assigned to the zoological estate to be allowed to live out your natural lifespan in circumstances more befitting your nature. Once this sentence is done, you are no longer to be directly addressed or spoken to like a person." She typed a few things on her computer. "The sentence is now effected. Guards. Please process this beast and lead it to its vivarium."

Her family that was nearby broke into tears at the verdict, as if it was a death sentence. And in a way, it was. She was no longer a person. The guards pulled her away from the bench to a table nearby, even as the judge started on the next case. "Not this! Please, I'll serve better! I'll lick pussy, please, not this! Momma, please!" She couldn't help but scream, but her mother couldn't look at her, or acknowledge her words, or she would suffer punishment herself. The guards stripped off the uniform she wore. And off came the Class D collar she wore. It had often been a mark of shame, marking her for 'educational humilaition' by their conquerers. But as she was forcibly held face down on the table, she knew she was going to get a new mark. One that would never come off.

"Shame about this one. It's a pretty one." One of the guards said, cupping her ass.

"Pft, if you're into animal fucking." The other one said. "Honestly, I mostly enjoy watching them. Think Class D is a stretch for this whole race. But it's not my call." They discussed freely even as a device was placed up against her ass, right underneath her fluffy bunny tail

"No... take it off! No, I don't want to, I'm not an animal! I'm NOT! Please, NO AAAAAH!" There was a flash of heat and pain as a large permanent mark was placed on her ass. It showed a humanoid form on hands and legs. A quick snap, and a tag was attached to her ear alongside with a number.

"There we go, Specimen A549 is ready. I guess we could clean her but that seems kind of pointless, right?" One of the guards said. "Let's just get her to the habitat. I think it's 'feeding time' anyway."

"Sounds good. Hey, and you." She lookedat her family and friends that were watching. "I recommend you to watch. Considering many of you were close to her, we will be watching you for sub-sentient tendencies as well. So it's perhaps a good inspiration for trying to at least resemble a person. Or at the very least get a look at what's in store for the rest of you."

And with that, she was dragged off, her family, their resistance long broken, thanking the guards for their advice and obeying even as they wept. She reached out for them as she was dragged off, knowing she would never see them again, except through a glass wall farom afar She looked around at the hallways as she walked, pleadingly she offered to suck the guards titites, lick their pussies anything if they let her go. But all one did was complain about how these animals always whined so much. She knew that these hallways were the last time she would be on a manufactered floor. Soon, they arrived at a heavily secured door, leading into a forested area.

One of them dumped her there. "Go, be among your own kind." She said The other one gave her a sharp look, but she rolled her eye. "Obviously as in 'talking to an animal' She said. They turned and walked through the door. She got up and tried to follow them, but it closed up behind them, its outer layer made to look like a rock wall so as not to 'break the look' She pounded on the door a few times, before startling, hearing something move. A quick look up showed that high above her, ranks of Class D Vierra were watching her, along with Class B and A citizens that liked to have some entertainment. She'd been one of the people to watch once. She knew what was going to happen; she knew there was no avoiding it. Somewher ein the distance, she heard some growls, a squeal, and then moaning.

She ran away from those sounds. The vivarium was filled with trees and rocks, making some kind of maze and limiting visibility. She tried to look up, to catch where the people were looking at. Perhaps that could tell her where the predators were coming from. Well, she did, until she caught her mother's eyes Then tears filled them again, and she just looked down.

It didn't take long for her to be caught. They were two male creaturesSome kind of scaly wolf like thing that smelled horrid. They weren't even that big, though the red tapered cocks leaking pre between their legs were above proportions. They quickly ran her down, one pouncing on her back, getting her down to the ground, and she screamed. She tried to get up, but all she managed was to make it easier to present herself. There was no warning, no foreplay. The creature saw an opening, and took it, forcibly entering her dry sex and making her scream. The scream soon cut off as another cock was forced into her mouth, and she found out it tasted as vile as it smelled. She was being raped by animals. She was one of those now. The ones people didn't talk about even as they watched. The reasons why 'you just do as they say'. As the creatured humped isndie of her, their claws scratching, she thought of her family being made to watch, and knowing that if they showed too much distress, they would get in trouble. They might end up here too.

As the creatures soon filled her womb and stomach with their seed, she didn't feel relief. She knew well enough these critters were never satisfied with one time.

...

She woke. She didn't think about what day it was. Or how Long. Or what her name was. or what a name was. Such thoughts were hard now. Maybe something to do with the food? Yes. Food. Food is good. Look for food. She ran through the territory, not bothering to look up at the eyes in the sky. Didn't matter. Food, water. She found a patch with carrots. Yum. Food is good. She got on her haunches and greedily ate them before another bunny could eat them. Some tried to use words. She had in the past? Were hard now. Past didn't matter. Got food. She felt her bladder was still full. So she got on her haunches and smiled happily as she relieved herself, quickly heading off, shaking herself to get the droplets off. Now drink. She knew the way to the water, and eagerly slurped down the pool's water. There was a crack though, and two males approached. They must have found her. She breathed in, scenting their arousal. Her pussy moistened at the smell. She quickly got on alll fours to present herself and opened her mouth. Hopefully they wouldn't scratch too much. But cocks felt good. Yeah, mating was fun.

Somewhere, a door opened and closed, and another bunny was making weird complicated noises. It often happened. New bunnies were so stupid, always looking at eyes in the sky and trying to make their noises to other bunnies and fighting males instead of presenting. Acted weird. Could be fun to play with sometimes. Maybe she'd go and play later. UNGh... Aah... after a round or two with the males.

Lina would probably be horrified to know that her younger sister had reacted badly to seeing what happened to her, and had tried to organize resistance, and that she now was convicted to the same fate. Fortunately for her, Lina had long since stopped to really exist as a person.


	9. Marital Bliss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Valiant soldiers make the best breeding sl-I mean WIVES, right? Especially if you're a dragon.

Sargent Jessica Price had basically come to terms with her own imminent death. The prefabricated house she and the rest of her squad were using for cover certainly didn’t inspire much hope-windows shattered from the light orbital bombardment that had wiped out the big guns and shields without any warning, the rest of the colony either already ruined or on fire, the distant sounds of sobbing and screaming giving the distinct impression that the raiders already considered the battle over. 

So when she saw a raider striding down the street, seemingly naked and unarmed except for a heavy metal gauntlet on one hand she knew from experience held a wickedly high-calibre gun, she felt serene. Nodding to the two surviving members of her squad, she said simply “Get to the bunker and hope like hell evac’s on the way. I’m taking this bastard with me.”

Not even bothering to take her rifle, she grabbed the grenades that they’d salvaged off Freeman’s corpse and added them to her own. Eight high powered pieces of frag, each powerful enough to punch one of the lizard’s scales and seriously ruin their day. With a wordless battlecry, she jumped through the empty windowframe and down on the street towards the hulking raider, tearing off all eight pins and holding them high as she charged. 

The Drake looked up and turned towards her, and she felt a grim sort of satisfaction as she saw what she was damn sure was surprise on the 7ft, 600-lbs alien dragon’s face. On a level she knew she should be feeling regretful, but after the last months of reading and watching all the reports of what these monsters did to anyone with the bad luck to be taken captive or surrender, she was just happy to take one of the monsters with her. 

Then the monster held out that gauntlet, and in the same instant she heard a hissing noise she felt the dull thud of a dart slamming into her collarbone. She was going numb to quickly to even properly feel horrified as he launched himself forward, massive wings begining to beat as her suddenly slack hands dropped all eight grenades to the ground. Plucking her into his embrace as he lifted them both into the air. 

The explosion was still close enough to make her grunt in pain, and seemed to do worse to her new captor. Not enough to send him falling to the ground, though. Or to make him drop her. And so the last sight she ‘enjoyed’ before collapsing into unconsciousness was his terrifyingly possessive, triumphant roar. 

* * *

Jessica woke up aboard a space-ship, as fighting fit as she’d ever been. A golden collar, braclets and anklets all cinched tightly onto her, golden chains connected to the wall leaving her enough slack to sprawl across the massive pillow she’d been left on. She was, otherwise, entirely nude. From her short-cropped dirty-blonde hair, tight and fit body, dozens of minor scars, and the regimental tramp stamp she’d never regretted [i]quite[/i] enough to get removed. To say she felt exposed was the understatment of the fucking century. And that was [i]before[/i] she shook her her and opened her eyes to see the Drake who’d captured her, even more nude than before-his obscenity of a ridged, bumpy cock unsheathed and hardening between his legs. He reached out with one long, wickedly lethal claw and pushed up her chin, forcing her to meet his predatory, alien gaze. “Congratulations, human. Your valour was seen and I will reward it. You have earned the honour of carrying my children, the next generation of Drake champions.”

She went wide-eyed with shock for a long moment, and then her face turned into a snarl. “Get away from me you fucking monster! If you think I’m just going to lay back and let you fuck me like some cheap whore y-”

She was cute off mid-tirade by a sound the translator implant didn’t interpret, but which she was pretty damned sure was laughter. As the claw traced down from her chin and between her cleavage, pressing against a scar above her belly button, pressing just hard enough to hurt as he replied. “No, you’re going to fight. Why else would I have chosen you?”

And she did-or tried, at least. Those chains didn’t exactly leave much room to meaneuver against a monster who can tear cars in half. And once he had a grip on her and was forcing her desperately undersized cunt down her shaft, she wasn’t in any position to land a hit. After the second scalding-hot ejaculation pumped right into her womb, she stopped really trying. By the sixth, she was barely conscious as he dumped her back on ‘her’ (absolutely jizz-soaked) pillow and turned to leave. Not even being aware enough to see who left the massive and overflowing trays of food within her reach, or the jugs of strange, hot milky wine. 

* * *

The ship’s day-night cycle was longer than a terran 24 hours, she was sure of it. But it’s not like she had any other way to tell the time. So that’s how she kept track-every five days, like clockwork, he returned and used her again. By the third, she was fairly sure he got off on her insults and attempts to fight back. On the fourth, she tried to stab him in the throat with a laboriously sharpened spoon, and he just laughed and fucked her even harder. She was pretty sure she was even given better food for the next couple days after that. As...encouragement? 

* * *

It got better every time. It was the food. Or the drugged liquid. Or something in his cum. Or maybe she had just always fantasized about a cock the size of a service rifle. He was barely forcing her, anymore-just providing a bit of momentum to help her bounce up and down his shaft, hands pressed against his scarred, scaled, warm-to-the-touch chest as her hungry cunt engulfed his magnificently ridged shaft. Her eyes had rolled back in her head as she just shivered and convulsed halfway down, legs splayed wide as she tried and failed to make any sort of noise in the throes of pleasure. 

After she finally recovered, she scratched five marks onto the wall-just to keep track of how long it would be until she had another chance to kill him. Obviously. 

* * *

He pressed the flat of his claw against her belly as she instinctively flinched. The slight bump seemed painfully obvious, now that he was drawing attention to it with an amount of self-satisfaction that made her long for a grenade, or at least a morning-after pill. 

“Congratulations, human. There’s a true warrior growing within you, now. You shall be the first to carry any of my children. I hope you appreciate the honour”

* * *

They were on a proper Drake world now, even if most people she saw were humans. Slaves, with the good luck to be taken captive all the warriors had fully expended their lusts, now used to carry out all the tiresome labour needed to sustain a colony, living in desperate hope that no scaled monstrosity in a bad mood ever noticed them. 

Not her, though. They fawned over her and hated her. Seven local months in, and she was too bloated to do more than waddle, with little energy to do anything more than recline for the vast majority of her days, her ‘husband’s’ servants bringing food and drink to her lips and ensuring she was always warm but never too long in the sun. And every moment staring at her with absolute and undisguised hatred. 

* * *

She saw her husband again five months latter, just in time for the birth. Sporting new scars that seemed to be some sort of deliberate pattern, clearly some sort of way of marking an important victory. She recognized on some dim level that she [i]should[/i] be terrified of what that meant, but by now she couldn’t bring herself to care. It felt like the best thing in the world just to have someone look down on her-and her new daughter-with anything but the disgust of the slaves. With pride, or at least a possessive kind of love. 

As the wyrmling bit down too hard on her breast, fangs digging into her sensitive flesh as it tried to draw out milk, she couldn’t help but moan, her hips bucking slightly on reflex. Her husband looked even happier at that, the reassuring tremors of his voice vibrating through her bones. 

“Do not worry. You will feed her for a month, and then you will bear me a son.”


	10. Stop and Smell the Roses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isn't it amazed how fast a weird alien cult spreads when it's got the help of mind control pheromones and amazing plant-sex? By the lovely Aurelius_Carlan.

She really should have been more careful. She should have gotten back on her ship the moment she had the sense that things were wrong. But with the Drakes pressing them, it felt like if she was going to undermine the alliance they'd needed, she wanted solid evidence. The Shaltari had been everything they had hoped for in a first contact. Wise, spirtual, environmentally conscious, speaking of peaceful communion. And clearly, their way stood up to the Drakes a lot better than humanity had done. Humanity had eagerly signed truces and free migration pacts. The right to preach was never in doubt. Freedom of religion was one of the USN's guidling principles. And so, along with their doctors, came the missionaries. Their ways were odd, but to be expected, and it wasn't considered strange that a lot of people showed a lot of interest in it. But there had been complaints about the new religious communities showing a rather...complete control, even cult like behaviour. What was even more worrisome was how those complaints would stop immediately, replaced with assurances that they'd just been narrowminded and it was all alright. 

And so, she had come, ostensibly to find a new life in the colonies. But the intelligence services wanted her to file a detailed report on what was going on. She landed on the planet, and found the city... well.... a bit shocking. It was known that the 'oneness' with nature seemed to include nudism, as well as sexual freedom. But she had imagined this happening in places of worship. But she was just about the only person in the colony clothed. Humans and Shaltari alike walked the street nude and happy. And most of them, she couldn't help but notice, visibly aroused, and not at all shy about engaging in all kinds of sexual acts seemingly at a whim. Most of the buildings seemed abandonned and ignored, especially restaurants. But trees had risen out of the ground, with phallic growths from it., where citizens eagerly suckled from She was offered both sexual congress and food from it, but had politely declined, even if she felt... oddly tempted. But she had a husband back home, and she was going to remain loyal to him. 

She'd spoken about her worry about the Drakes, and how the Colonial militia barracks seemed to be mostly be busy with growing plants, and fucking eachother. Most of the female marines pregnant. This was given a laughter, and it was said that there were woods they would flee into, merge with the plants there in delight, and the Drakes would be 'taken care of'. Not that they expected it to happen, the Drakes were apparently not keen on trying. All of this had made her mention how they should be part of the USN, right, and should do their part to help the other worlds. But the unflinching smiles and guarantees that all of humanity would be helped made had not reassured her.

She'd looked for a hotel, but there were none, nor were there really any kind of houses. Simply communal 'pods' where one could lay in a plant and be enveloped. She saw a few folks went to rest there, but the wet sounds and moans coming form within heated her cheeks. She should have made off the planet. It was clear that this planet had completely lost all control. But she had been so tired, yet feeling so aroused. She'd figured that she'd sleep somewhere secluded, take a last look in the morning, and make her report. As she had slept, she had dreamt of a mix of all those cocks and tits and asses and hands that she had seen, along with those phallic plant growths, and slow, undulating never ending pleasure. The dream of vines wrapping around her, holding her in an embrace. And then she felt a little stab of pain as her head scraped a stone and woke up, finding that those vines were very, very real. She screamed and moaned as she tried to fight, passing by people, only to see them smile encouragingly at her. 

She was dragged to the big 'temple' to the faith of the people there, seeing crowds of people there, watching as she was pulled towards a tree., stroking themselves or their neighbours Two Shaltari were there, it was always hard to figure out their gender, but they smiled as well welcoming her as if she was walking in, rather than being pulled in, feeling herself get pulled up against the tree, her arms and legs held spread eagled. All around her, a crowd of humans from all genders watched her with a mix of religious awe and the look of someone watching a really good porn novel. "LEt me go! Unhand me! I do not... I'm not of your faith. I don't want... to take part in your rituals!" She shouted. 

The Shaltari, a slight form with pale skin whose touch felt like smooth wood carressed her cheek. "We know, hardened soil. e welcome you, shown you the way, shown you the blessings, and caused the waters to flow in your body. But you are so bound by rules and duty and self that you are not free. We pour the seed over you, yet your soil does not welcome it." And without any furhther signal, those in the crowd with penises climaxed in a unified moan of pleasure, and she felt herself coated with their cum, smelling oddly... sweet, pleasant even. She felt tears come to her eyes in humiliation as it drenched her clothes.

The other Shaltari, their skin green and viney spoke. "But you will be welcomed human. You will be seeded, you will be fertile." A thorn appeared on that skin, long enough t o cut through her clothing, cutting it off her body, exposing her nudity to the crowds. "Behold... a beautiful, fertile body, denying its place in nature, hiding herself, bound. We shall free her."

"Free her, free her." The crowd chanted excitedly.

The first Shaltari smiled. "We know you ask questions. We know you are not really here to settle down and be part of the colony. But you will be a part of the colony nonetheless." From the great tree she was bound too, she plucked a fruit. The captured human clenched her mouth, thinking they would forcefeed it to her, but instead the fruit was simply interred in the ground. But what grew from it was born straight out of those erotic dreams. It a Bulging plant, with a thick flower that seemed to waft its scent directly into her face, making it harder to tense her muscle. But those vines, thick and moist and moving with such purpose. 

"To grow beautiful things, we must break that outer layer." The dark priestess said, and as if guided those tentacles went for her. There was very little pain, even as one of them slid up her rear, the plant secreting lubrication, aphrodisiac and a little bit of anasthesia all together. Still, she screamed, only to have it muffled as the tentacle found it as well, sliding in oh so deep down her stomach. She'd expected them to start fucking her then, thinking this was some kind of rape. But the tentacles actually were still once they were inside, giving her a teasing feeling. And then she felt something warm filling her, and start to grow... expand within her.

At first she panicked, thinking they were going to kill her. But then, she felt a warmth start to wash over her, a happiness. Starting from her gut, her womb, her stomach, starting to cause her trashing against the vines holding her to slow down, and start to become more of a swaying. She felt something... enter her, grow inside of her. She was trained however, and willful, she reminded herself to her duty, of her dignity. She was being raped, violated... bred... fertilized... The warmth started to coil upwards, she almost thought she could feel something climb up her torso, even as it crept down into her legs. She tried to think about her carreer, about the USN and her duty to it as it resisted the Drakes and this... infiltration, but bit by bit her dread at this infiltration spreading became a wonderful vision of all of humanity happily being part of this big, wonderful entity. Billions of humans breeding, seeding, drinking and living guided by that Greater Will, knowing nothing but this happiness they were all feeling, free from thought and... no... no... no... 

The warmth grew to her throat, and she knew that her body was not even pretending to struggle, but writhing in pleasure as her belly grew as if pregant. All around her she saw the other breeders.. no, humans... they're humans, enslaved... wonderfully enslaved... no, fight it. They were fucking with abandon now, but all their eyes were on her. And none of them seemed to come. The flower wrapped itself fully on her face then an she couldn't see any of them. She tired to imagine her husband, her beloved... her beloved.... his face and name vanished from her mind to be replaced by a mix of humans, Shaltari and plants, fucking her, be fucked by her, until it was hard to remember what was her and what was one of her beloved partners.

The warmth was in her head there, growing inside her brains, she thought, branches too fine for scanners to find. Even as she forgot all about her duty, except in ways that she knew that she was going to tell The Colony all about it, a last part of her resisted. Her name.... her name was... her name was...

And then that last indendent thought was drowned out by the climaxing orgasm, accompanied by the orgasm of all her fellow breeders in this Holy Place..

...

"So, my dear wife, the genius inspector came up empty?" HEr husband grinned. "I fully expected you to take some scalps." HE undressed for their first night after a return. He grinned. The first night after a long absence was always... well.. hot, but she'd seemed pretty eager for it.

"Hm... wouldn't take my mom to such a place. But once you get past the occasional orgy during mass, it was all pretty benign." She undressed, her body visibly excited, and she licked her lips.

He embraced her. "Hmm... should I be jealous?"

She licked her lips, coming in from a kiss. "Oh, I promise you. There is no reason to be jealous of what happeend there." And hidden from the husband's eyes, out of her slick sex grew the first of the vines, towards him, eager to find new soil.


	11. One With Nature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How to punish some fanatic who burn down your great tree? Horrible body-horror plant-fucking that uses them as the structure for the replacement, of course! By the lovely Aurelius_Carlan

It had been a long, gruelling battle. The Selendrai had lost one of their pilgrimage worlds, and some of their battle pilgrims. Now, they were more careful. And when a world was considered 'infested', they sent not pilgrims, but their most zealous and trained monks. The kind that even the Selendrai themselves were uncomfortable with. Their study of the cosmos was exclusively on 'endings' To kill was not simply their job, it was their art, it was their show of faith, it was their purpose. EAch of them with their head shaven clean, and wearing black, simple robes.

The Shaltari, that had found the sacred planet to be fertile, had been hit hard. Their pheremones were simply ignored, no paralytic poison seemed to work, and the stoic killers ahnds cut through flesh, vine, bark and fungus alike. The capital on the planet was devastated. And yet, and yet eventually, they had beaten them, but in the way that the Shaltari liked least. Through brute force and large numbers. And what was worse, the Great Tree of the planet had fallen to their assault, a dire omen to all. The Great Tree was both a center of worship, but also the home, many of them living inside of it, feeding from it.

Despite all that, many of the monks had lived. Their bodies were honed to endure, and the Shaltari were not one for bloodlust. And so, there was a reckoning as the leader of the Selendrai was held bound in iron hard vines in a circle along with her companions. Despite her desperate circumstances, the only emotion on her face was a faint sense of smugness. the Shaltari looked at her like a distraught mother. "You say this place is sacred, yet you bring so much death to it. So much war and strife. Can you not see how you are straying from the path?"

The Abess gazed coolly at her. "Please save me the preaching. Death can be a sacred thing, if brought upon an impurity like this. You turned a holy place in a fecund hellescape. You are the Cythir Swarm with branch and thorn instead of tooth and claw. Now, cease this talking. I know what your way is. Have your plants ravage us, or whatever it is you like to do. We came here to cut down your tree, and we have fulfilled our mission. The rest of you will wither. Either you will let us live, and we will wait for our chance to escape, or you will kill us eventually, and we will embrace the cosmic mystery of death." 

The priestess looked at her. "No... I see there is no... redemption for you. But from a bad seed, perhaps something beautiful may yet grow." Acolytes brought out vials of something that even the Shaltari rarely used. "It is a rare... case that we use this. These seeds are difficult to make. For most beings, the time they have before they return to the great cycle, makes it a... curiosity. And often the bodies break under the strain. But you..." She reachesd for her cheek. "You are exceptional. You will return to us what you have taken." She smiled. 

The abess just gave her a steely eyed gaze, as the seeds were prepared and planted, and all the acolyes hastily made away. Then, at about the same time, there was a competing praying going on. The Selendrai sang in a beautiful tone, a harmonious and serene stong, while the Shaltari sang a feverish and ecstatic prayer as the seeds took root. The monks, to their credit, didn't even bother to look down as vines started to grow, didn't flinch as they wrapped around their bodies and tore the black robes of them, exposing their nudity, replacing the lesser vines that held them there. Even when those vines violated their sex and asshole, their voices barely wavered, and not a trace of shame or disgrace was visible on their face. Only when, deep within them, the vines did more than penetrate, but started to merge, to become one with the flesh, did some of them show traces of surprise. Soon, the voices were cut, as rather than tendrils going into their mouth, they soon started to come out, the eyes widening, but not showing any signs of dying. Bit by bit, the tendrils from the different monks wrapped together, the difference between flesh and vine starting to became difficult to see, then the difference where one body ended and one began, until there was just thick mess of vines, wrapping around a growing wooden core.

...

"So that's how the New Tree was born." The planteborn Shaltarisaid to the newcomer from off planet. he motioned to the place around them, the wood of the tree giving cosy little tunnels for the Shaltari to live in. Truly, the Selendrai show us that everything in this universe has a place in the Great Cycle. I know that there are many who seek to copy this accomplishment, but it's hard to find them of that quality. And as you see, they add a bit of extra beauty to the place." He pointed at the walls. Every few meters, there was aslender flawless arm coming out of the living, the muscles tense as they held candles, the was of it dripping on palms and running down their arms. 

"They do look decorative, but a bit impractical." The guest said. "There can't be that many of them."

"Oh, the Tree can make more arms than there actually were. There are only 254 of the monks that were captured, but there is no reason they should each have only two arms, right? The Tree provides, and when they are not needed, the arm will become one with the tree again. "And there is always dirty or painful work were a pair of hands is 'handy'." He winked. His companion groaned. "But well, considering we're going to make an offering to the tree, better not to think about those eh?"

They passed a room, and the man grinned as he looked at a power generator, with several legs coming out of the living wood running over a wheel, causing it to spin and generate power. "The legs find their use as well? By the Cycle, they have some speed."

The host smiled. "Oh yes, they are a surprising amount of power. The speed and endurance of those monks combed with being one of the tree. We can run a pair of legs for weeks before they're utterly exhausted, and then they simply respawn anew, completely fresh. "

The guest looked with interest. "Oof, I'll freely admit, I'm getting tired just looking at them. Those monks were something else."

The host grinned. "Now, let me bring you to the 'feast room'" Inside there were a host of Shaltair, as well as some humans that were happily eating at tables, some of them of course enjoying some copulation with eachother or with viny plant, but that was not so strange. What was more... unusual was the wall where several people went to go and gather food and drink.

Coming out of the wall were the groins and torsos of still recocgnizeable as Selendrai bodies, writhing against the plantlike wall from which they spawned. As they watched, one of the bodies, sweaty and abused, simply merged back into the plant wall, not sinking away, simply merging. They walked closer to a female one. "Now, this is a bit more interesting for most of the guests." The man said. It is about the cycle. He pointed at one of the male torsos. "The first thing one does, is gather seed" He pointed and rubbed the balls, that looked painfully swollen. "Oh yes, this is a good one. Take a bowl, and bring forth the seed. I trust I don't need to tell you how."

The younger guest laughed. "Hah, of course, honoured elder. I know this one." He stroked the cock firmly, admiring how the body reacted to his touch. "Oooh, he seems to resist it." He said.

"Yes, thankfully they are not quite as resistant as they were when they were still fully flesh or you could move till your hand fell off, but without self control, all you need to overcome is the instinctual tendency to avoid pain."

The young man grinned. "Pain, I hardly think I..." And then those hips bucked in his grasp, and there was the sound as a deluge of seeds was emptied in the bowl, leaving the body trembling. "Oh... I see now." 

The man laughed and led him to a female body next. "Now, here is a female body. As you see." He rubbed over her hugely pregnant stomach. "her food supply is high. However, in all things there must be a balance. So, for every fruit you desire, you must give a seed."

The young man nodded. "That makes sense, "and moved to reach for the exposed vulva. But his wrist was grabbed. 

"Not there, young man. That is where the bounty is provided. A mistake often made. You need to remember that these bodies aren't quite flesh any more, even if they still feel." He pointed towards the ass, which was a bit harder to reach in the back. "Make sure to get them nice and deep."

With long, slender fingers, he reached between those asscheeks, forcing a dozen seeds deep inside, feeling some excitement as he watched that torso twitch and trash in his grip. "Oof, she's tightening a fair bit hm?"

"Yes, I think it's in expectation." The older man placed a basket underneath

"In expectation of... what?" and that's when the body started to tense and press, that pregnant belly straining, until those lips were pressed aside, and a large apple, gleaming with juices was pushed out of that pussy. Then another... and another, , apple after apple being 'born' into that basket. afterwards, the stomach was shaking, trembling, but still pretty full. "Within her, the seeds will grow into new fruits. If we wish more seeds of one kind, all we need to do is put some seeds in one of the male holes, and he'll produce the necessary seeds."

Looking aside, the younger man noticed that a grinning lady Shaltari was walking towards one of the women torsos with what he was reasonable sure was a pumpkin seed, and looked a bit higher up. "What about her breasts?"

The man laughed, and reached up, opening mouth as he firmly squeezed that immobilized glove and let the liquid run over his mouth, not caring for spilling it a bit, then sprayed a it in his companion. "Hm... that's... milk?" He said. "A bit surprised."

"Now, now, you think we'd make fruit juice or something? I'll have you know that I hear that there are few drinks as 'exclusive' as Selendrai breastmilk. Regardless, it's more than just 'decadence'" he said. "It is important. These men and women rejected the natural Cycle, their visions of 'purity' were heretical and blasphemous." he gave the tit another squeeze. "This is, in a way, a chance for those bodies to fulfill the role their owners denied them for so long."

The younger man looked chastised. "Ah, of course elder, I'm sorry, I forgot myself."

The man patted him on the back. "That said, we are not... completely indifferent to the joys of life. And we have in fact learned some things there from the humans and put it into practice." he pointed to a male body, this one angled differently, the ass much more accessible. Here too, the balls were swollen. "As always, to receive, one must give."

The young man looked. "Give what? You mean give him my own seed?"

The older man laughed. "No, no. Though that is a use for their bodies too. I mean the fruit."

"Oh... oh right, of course." And he took one of the apples, and pressed it against the hole. It took some pushing for that ring to give in, but eventually, the fruit vanished between those asscheeks with a plop, the body trashing within. As it went in, the cock beneath it was quickly hardening. Fortunately, it hung at the right height for the younger man to simply point that cock at his mouth and give it a few strokes. What he drank was not seed, but something sweet, which filled his body with warmth. "Hm? This is good!"

The older man laughed. "Apple cider. We never discovered it, because we are very... efficient with plant matters. But our biologists are eager to coax new things for the tree, and learn more, as long as balance is kept. we've also learned to make coffee, though the body likes that far less." He rubbed the tip of that cock, licking some of the applecider of his lips. "Now, one more thing to show you. And that is a place that as one who has enjoyed the bounty of the Tree, you must now give as well." He said, and led him towards a room where several folk, Shaltari and convert were in. 

Within was a whole wall, and growing out of them were the faces of Selendrai. Each of them an indificual one. Some of them were weeping, others were screaming. But a fair amount of them were moaning out loud. Here and there a few of them were singing. As they went to one of those, a female face that was still holding up the song, though it sounded like she had diffculty, now and then moaning or crying out. The older man said with a smile. "Oh, you're in luck. The Abess. It is said that good fortune will happen to someone whose first gift to the tree is to the Abyss." He grinned. "This time, it's not the apple." He said, and looking around, it was clear what he meant. All alongside the walls, men and women were forcefully facefucking the heads of the monks, who didn't seem to resist, even suckling or licking as requested, drinking up the cum that was produced, before going back to their lamentations, song or moaning as they had before.

"Are all of these... all the survivors?" He said, even as he presented his balls to the Abess, putting the cock in her face. Her eyes looked up at him tearfully for a moment, before she started to lick at his shaft. 

"Oh yes, each of those bodies you saw, is connected to one of these." The man said with a grin. "And they feel every bit of it. But they too need to be fed, and we cannot expect the tree to do all of the feeding. And it's pleasant, and it shows these heretical blasphemers their place." He smiled, patting the Abess head as she started to suckle at that cock.

The younger man started to press his hips, getting in a steady pace as he fucked the head, awed at the history, even as he fucked the Selendrai Abess' throat, but also, the very tree that made her out. "Hmm... haah.... it must be... quite something to... haah... see the people that once brought your planet low... hm... being made... parto f the cycle;..hah... this way."

The older man blinked, then laughed. "Now, now young man. I'm not the youngest sapling, but I'm hardly that ancient."

The young man groaned as that tongue licked at his cock, speeding up as he reached his plateau. "Hm... what? Ngh..."

"You don't know your history well, do you? This new tree has stood here for more than four centuries." 

And the young man looked at that once oh so proud face, and the tears, and thought of all the abuse and the use he'd seen and the one he'd know he might still explore. And thought that this woman must feel all of that, constantly, from multiple bodies, for centuries.

And with a great cry, he made another gift of seed to the Great Tree.


	12. Meeting Over Drinks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When meeting to negotiate with a potentially hostile alien race, it's important to make sure your drink doesn't have any mind altering substances in it.

Princess Setara, Commander-in-Chief of the Rimward Fleet and Her Imperial Majesty’s appointed proxy for all dealings with savages, gracefully accepted the hand of the marine helping her step out of the airlock. She was, of course, an absolute vision of beauty. Her white-and-silver ceremonial dress covered very little flesh, leaving all the more room to display the artfully traced and vibrants patterns her favorite husband had spend the last six hours painting upon her light, blue-green scales. 

Her hosts showed no sense of aesthetics whatsoever, to the point where she was beginning to reconsider whether they were worth negotiating with. All identical uniforms in muted colours and starched whites, gloves and-half the time-masks leaving no skin at all showing. She wasn’t sure if the twenty soldiers lining the walls as she walked down to what she’d been told was the diplomatic suite were all women, of if these aliens just had the good luck to have men who could stand in one place for ten minutes with starting to play with themselves, but either way they clearly at least knew how to follow orders. 

Her [i]actual[/i] host greeted her inside. Tall and willowy, shockingly androgynous for a mammal, but still with unmistakable female features and silhouette. With a cool, professional sort of smile on her face, she inclined her head in greeting. “Princess, a pleasure to meet you in person after all the official correspondence. I am Fleet Captain Amiata, and it is my honour to welcome you aboard the [i]Regicide[/i].” Her thin lips curled into a smile that looked a bit more genuine. “Purely a historical reference, I assure you. I have refreshments prepared, if you’d like to partake as we begin?”

Before the reptilian royal could really respond, another soldier- definitely a man, and she couldn’t help but admire her host’s taste if he was hers – silently laid out a bottle of something, two full glasses, and two small bowls of some alien soup. As they sat down, Amiata raised her glass and nodded “A toast, if you would? To a long and production partnership.” 

When Setara followed her lead and took a sip, she was shocked at how pleasantly rich and sweet it tasted. While the Masquerade officer’s drink seemed barely touched when she put it down, she all but emptied hers. At a nod from Amiata, it was quickly refilled. 

“I’m glad you enjoy it. The ship’s xenozoologist thought the recipe would translate well to your species palette. Please, indulge yourself. I know for a fact there are at least three more bottle of the stuff in a freezer.”

Making a precise gesture, she summoned a holographic star map of the region-or, properly, of all of Praesi space their scouts had penetrated, and nothing whatsoever on their side of the border. Highlighting a certain system, she began to speak with the clipped tones of someone giving a presentation that had been written for them. “Now, we understand that your ‘Empire’ has already begun establishing mining outposts in the sector, however we believe th-”  
She kept talking, but Setara quickly had trouble paying much attention. There was something wrong with the ship’s climate controls, of air supply, or something. Her scales had begun to feel prickly all over, especially around her slight bust and tailbone. Worse, she was feeling unbearably cold, getting more exhausted by the second. Taking another drink (finishing another glass) of the drink helped, at least. It felt like a shot of fire down her throat as she swallowed it, which gave her enough grounding to at least try and focus. Soon she wasn’t even looking at the glass or table, just raising it to her lips whenever she felt her eyes start to glaze over, or the cold start to affect her, trusting the silent servant would keep it full. 

Amiata’s monologue seemed to take an eternity, and seemed to get more arcane and technical with every second, until it was just an impenetrable stream of jargon. So when she opened her mouth to object, it was a sincere relief to at least shut the haughty, confident alien up for a moment. At least until she heard what her voice sounded like-even the Masquerade’s translator software couldn’t hide how confused her words sounded. Somewhere the sentiment between brain and tongue the sentiment had been transformed into “Stop! I don’t understand. Please use, um, smaller words?”

The smile on the alien’s tanned, sharp features was positively playful now, something like vindicated contempt in her harsh grey eyes. As she stood up and walked around the table, a very poor attempt at concern on her face, she managed to keep her tone perfectly polite. “I’m sorry Princess, I was being presumptuous when I acted as if your species were as intelligent as we are.” Standing over the seated Praesi, she put one white-gloved hand on her chin and lifted her head up to look her in the eyes. “Just tell me what you need explained.”

As she stood up, Setara took another long drink by reflex-she was just holding the bottle now, she realized. Though it seemed full as she brought it to her mouth and poured half of the invigoratingly firery liquid down her throat, shivering and twitching as she did. That was enough to spread the heat through her entire body, at least. And then she felt the hand on her scales, and her body was on fire. Her mouth just hung open, fangs on full display as she tried to breath in enough air-and that’s when Amiata pushed her gaze up her entire body. And suddenly she was [i]extremelly[/i] interested in the flare of the woman’s hips, the small swell of her perky breasts, the way her uniform blouse and jacket were so tightly fitted to her toned, disciplined and defined muscles...

She didn’t know when she had spread her legs, or started tracing her tail up her inner thigh, but the feeling of its tip pressing against her desperately wet slit was enough to shock her back to awareness-to the hand holding her chin, and the cool, superior look in the eyes of the composed, professional, [i]civilized[/i] woman towering over her. She let out a little moan as she reflexively tried to look down and avoid the gaze of social superior, and being unable to just made her want to start fucking herself on her own tail even more. 

“Princess, I asked what you needed help understanding. You said the vocabulary was too advanced for your species, but I had hoped you weren’t so primitive you couldn’t keep control of your inhibitions for a single meeting.”

She let go of her face then, and Setara looked down-trying very hard not to fixate on how the alien’s sweat tasted in the air, or how [i]right[/i] it would feel to be on her knees, tasting something else of hers-

She shuddered and moaned again, an intense shame display obvious to any who knew her across her crest. And as she shifted, she heard a tear-and looked down, to see the top half of her dress had fallen at her lap. What had once been a barely perceptible bust half hidden by the thinness of her chest scales were now udders that would put any of the mamals she had past by on the ship to shame. Or-they were new, right? As she ran a hand over one, she let out a moan loud enough she was sure Amiata could hear it, utterly unprepared for just how sensitive they would be. 

Amiata’s grin was positively playful now, the enjoyment of someone falling entirely into a trap obvious on her fact. But her self-control and discipline were still perfect, sounding nothing more than ironic as she said “It appears your textiles are more primitive then expected as well. We’ll have to add that to the trade deal.” 

By this point Setara’s willpower was entirely devoted to not fucking herself, the heat from before now overwhelming concetrated in her new udders, the suddenly massively enlarged cushioning around the base of her tail, and her desperate, gushing, needy cunt. Because the woman in front of her – the [i]civilized[/i] woman- had told her not to. 

So when Amiata made another gesture with her pristine white gloves, conjuring a holographic screen awaiting a genetic imprint as signature, she tried to pay attention. When she leaned forward whispered hotly into her ear, she hung off every word. 

“Right now you’re a diplomat, and humiliating yourself trying to be respectable. Sign this, and your job is done. And you can entertain me for the rest of the night.”

Setara’s hand was jamming into the hard light treaty, grunting as the hologram extracted a DNA sample, by the time she had stepped back. 

* * *

Amiata moaned and bucked her hips as she came for the third time, both hands gripping the ‘princesses’ head like a vice as she dove her long, flexible, forked tongue deep into the officer’s tight cunt. “[i]Fuck[/i] you’re made for eating pussy you alien whore.”

Setara felt a flush of intense pleasure at the compliment. And not form much else. She was on her knees, newly fattened ass up in the air, thinly stretched scales cracked and discoloring from the bruises beneath them as a punishment after she’d tried to fuck herself with her tail. Now she knew better-animals only got pleasure as a reward. 

And so she was working to earn it, face glistening with and dripping her ‘host’s’ juices, jaw sore and tongue burning from exhaustion. When, finally, Amiata pulled her head away with a sigh of satisfaction, she couldn’t do anything but let her tongue hang limp, long enough to loll a few inches out of her mouth. 

Still, when Amiata leaned close, she tried to pay attention, when she lightly rubbed her hand against her cheek, she rubbed back-even if she had never taken off her gloves. Or jacket. Or even her boots, using some smart fabric to get rid of pants and panties without otherwise exposing herself- “But a beast like you will be more comfortable nude, obviously”. 

She raised her head, tried her best to look grateful and devoted as Amiata leaned forward, her own lips openening to kiss her lover-or, to spit right down her throat. The look of betrayed confusion on her face as she was suddenly struggling to swallow brought an even wickeder smile to the captain’s face. 

“And now I think you’re getting the idea. Time for you to go to sleep, [i]Princess[/i]. You’ve got a treaty to explain to your fleet.”

* * *

Six days later, she had her head buried in her Mistress’ cunt again, sharp discipline and plenty of practice combined with natural talent having left her skilled enough that she was made use of almost every day-or loaned out to other officers as a favour. Behind her, she could hear enough to know exactly the video that was being played. Her, wearing nothing but a newly fabricated collar with ‘Princess’ engraved on it, groping and fucking herself with abandon after finally being told she had permission. Explaining the treaty to her fleet, and to her sisters and mother when they took the video back home. She had to repeat herself a dozen times as she stumbled over longer words, and her Mistress had to use her collar to shock her twice, but she’d gotten it out eventually. All the border worlds to be turned over, in exchange for promised Masquerade trade in pharmaceuticals and textiles, and herself, kept as a hostage for good behaviour. 

Or, as her Mistress had told her while she dutifully licked her own juices off her uniform gloves, that’s what her family would think. But since she’d been such a ‘stupid, wanton lizard’ and had three times as much of the hormone treatment then they’d expected, her Mistress had decided to keep her. 

A command officer was allowed to keep any xenofauna that caught her eye as a pet, after all. As long as they were well trained and housebroken.


	13. Special Exotic Xenomaterials

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turns out pinning all of humanities hopes on recklessly exploiting some dormant nanomachines found in deep space might not work out. Who'd have thought?

Specialist Miranda Alaire was dressed head-to-toe in a skinhuging, flexible bodysuit so ‘efficient’ she was surprised no one had noticed her blushing on the transport-the pilot and technician had  _certainly_ noticed enough to leer over. Still, the  _important_ thing was that it kept her body totally isolated from the environment. And as she spent the time the cavernous laboratory doors took to respond to her override to review the briefing notes, she concluded that that was worth showing off any amount of lovingly defined and supported T&A for airmen who’d be jerking off to the memory for the next lifetime. 

The Special Exotic Xeno materials Laboratory was burrowed into the side of a  Martian mountain, hours of flight away from any of the bustling canyon-cities that were at this point the largest free human population beyond earth orbit.  It was, according to the extraordinarily classified briefing flashing across her HUD, where all of humanity’s brightest minds and shiniest tax dollars had been buried in the hopes that some miracle to win the war-or at least keeping the invaders out of the solar system-would grow. And yesterday it’s weekly report hadn’t gone out. 

Carbine bouncing against her leg as she walked past the empty security stations-doors flung open from the inside but without signs of struggle-and onto the waiting automated tram, she played the last message transmitted, eight days previously.

_A striking, dark-skinned woman in her late 30’s was on screen-_ _Dr. Rebeca Sinclair, director of research. A clear upper-class English accent, full of the sort of genuine optimism she hadn’t heard from anyone with a security clearance for months. “-What I’m most excited to talk about is the amazing progress we’ve had with the exotic materials Task Force Yangtze brought back when they were recalled. Our analysis so far indicates it’s some sort of extremely advanced and complex nanite system. We’re still unclear on its actual purpose, but the speed at which isolated samples are able to reproduce when fed energy and raw materials is nothing short of amazing, and the solid matrices they form are extremely resilient. We’re dedicated five labs to examining and determining ways to exploit what we’ve called EX-1, and I for one am extremely optimistic.”_

7 Days later, no regular transmission, and no response when the resupply shipment arrived. Not a great sign.  Neither was the secondary security gate waiting for her at the other end of the tram ride, in full lock-down mode with a dozen automated quarantine signals assaulting her comms before she had even taken a step towards it. Sighing in irritation and dismissing them, she took a seat in the receptionist’s chair and waited for her provided overrides to go their job. Still no signs of struggle, but the place had clearly been cleared out fast. And not just of people-the plants from the briefing images were gone too-basically everything organic, which otherwise wasn’t much in a place like this. 

When the failsafe doors finally slid open, she let a long, low whistle. The interior was...less peaceful. Still no bodies-or blood, or any sort of organic matter.  But more than enough bullet casings, gouges torn out of the floor and walls, and over-turned desks and torn off doors that had clearly been barricades at some point to give a rough idea that things had properly gone to shit. 

It took fifteen minutes of searching to find an access port to the local network that wasn’t either collateral damage from the fighting  or purposefully sabotaged. Thankfully, for all that her bodysuit was really making her regret not shaving her head, it did have some builtin hardware connectors. Waiving through all the quarantine warnings and failsafe’s all over again was tedious, but sitting down with her back against the wall and the wire leading from the port to the back of her neck, she at least able to start digging through the masses of personally encrypted or corrupted files and find something to give her some answers. 

_A young scientist with short-cropped blonde hair was beaming into the camera, as her partner worked on a computer. Behind her was an elevated plastic case a fist-sized clump of something glossy and black floated in the middle. Second-by-second, Miranda could swear she saw it growing. But the blonde’s voice drew her attention away. “Progress report on EX-1, Laboratory 1. We’ve only just begun, but the sample we’ve received seems very responsive to the basic nutrient fluid we’ve suspended it in. From the millilitre we’ve received it’s already increased by several orders of magnitude. Going by the current rate of growth, in...98 minutes we’ll have enough to remove the medium and separate the sample to test its responses to the 37 energy sources the laboratory has available. Will update with preliminary results by end of day.”_ _The camera cut out as she turned towards her lab partner, not even glancing towards the webs of glossy black nanites that had begun stretching across their container, growing by two or three times in the course of the recording._

A definite hint that this was what fucked everything up, but not exactly actionable. And so she kept searching for anything by the same user-who helpfully didn’t bother to attach personalized passwords to her reports. Instead, the next recording under her ID was an automatic security response.

_The blonde scientist form before was slamming against the door, silently screaming to whoever was outside. The containment case from before had been shattered from the inside, and thick, glossy, synthetic-looking black pseudopods had snaked through the newly made openings. The scientist’s partner had been grabbed by two of them already, the ends breaking apart as they gripped him, the substance reverting to liquid form as it spread across his body._ _From the camera’s vantage point in the corner of the ceiling,_ _the blonde’s terrified sobbing was clearly captured as a third pseudopod shot out and around her waist, effortlessly lifting her into the air. Within seconds, the glossy black material was spreading, eating away at her clothing and clinging lovingly to her skin._ _Her attempts to grab or pull at the tendril holding her just left the substance spreading up her arms. The feed cut out on her face, eyes wide with utter horror, screaming for salvation, as the substance seeped over her chin, across her face, and into her mouth, nose and eyes._

Miranda shuddered at that, looking over and grabbing her carbine by reflex. Taking a minute to strip it and make sure it wasn’t going to fuck her if-when, really-she got attacked. At least she had enough incendiary rounds handy that she’d be able to ruin any rogue robots’ day.

She stood up, sending all the necessary permissions to her suit to allow a wireless connection with the lab’s databanks. She frowned as she did-the thing was really clinging to her like a second skin now, and starting to feel stiff after too long sitting down. Cursing under her breath and wishing she had some way to take a drink of water, she stalked forward towards the labs proper, queueing up the next uncorrupted video she could find. 

_The camera was positioned like it was set to record a personal log, though no one was in any state to monologue at the moment. A squad of the lab’s security teams had barricaded the hallway, shooting desperately at the...doll on the other side. The form was distinctly, obscenely feminine, somewhere between a doll and a sex toy formed out of the same substance as the mass flowing across the floor behind her. Her face was totally featureless, save for a s_ _light_ _bump for a noise and two indents where eyes would be._ _Her breasts were easily the size of her head, sitting on her chest without any sign of sag in complete defiance of gravity,_ _her body then narrowing into a parody of an hourglass frame, flaring out in wide, child-bearing hips and an ass to match. Her ‘skin’ was perfectly unmarred and seamless, more than a few bullets simply sinking into it and vanishing within a moment._

_The lab’s emergency speakers had been turned on, and the voice of the blonde scientist from the previous videos was loud enough for the cameras speakers to pick up clearly. Or the voice that used to be hers, anyway._ _Calling out from every speaker, she sounded somewhere between eager and ecstatic._

_“Stop fighting. I_ _**promise** _ _ you’re going to love your new life. I just want to make you beautiful!” _

_ She spread her arms wide, and a dozen thick pseudopods shot out from the carpet of glossy black nanites she was being carried on. Effortlessly crashing through the security team’s makeshift barricades, lifting the troopers in the air as their armor and uniforms were torn apart and converted into more raw materials. And the soldiers themselves were...converted.  _

Miranda felt her face go flush at just what she was seeing, silently glad that no one was there to hear the squeak she let out as the video continued.  She was so focused on the video that she was barely paying attention to her actual surroundings. Or the fact that she wasn’t even thinking about where she was walking now, the systems in her increasingly skin-tight uniform nudging her to take this turn or that as she carelessly walked forward. 

_ The five formerly armed men and women were naked and helpless in seconds, the pseudopods grabbing each splitting into enough limbs to hold them by the arms and legs, suspended in the air. The latex-like nanites slowly spreading down their limbs, as more tendrils emerged-and began fucking them in every avaliable hole without foreplay or mercy, injecting the nanites deep inside them as quickly as possible. In real time before the camera, the glossy black covering spready their skin, as their bodies began to warp and mould themselves into what the nanite’s governing systems seem to have decided was the ideal human body plan. Breasts expanding (or growing form scratch), hips widening, muscles wasting away, leg bones shifting as thin, tall heels grew out of their feet. The changes grew faster  _ _ and more extreme  _ _ with every second.  _ _ The two unfortunate men’s cocks vanished beneath the expanding new layer of nanite skin, the bulge clear for a second before vanishing into the flat expanse of glossy, latex- like skin within a few moments.  _

_ In all cases, things ended the same way-the tendril in their mouth pulled out, spray the liquid form of itself in thick rivulets over the captives struggling, sobbing, or moaning faces. Which clung to their features, moulding them into identical copies of the minimalist impression of a face their attacker had, their hair seeming to vanish into the ether. _

_ The video cut out just as all five newly converted drones were dropped and gracefully landed on their inbuilt heels. As one, turning to ‘look’ at the camera.  _

...and as Miranda came back to the real world and looked down, she swore. The cavernous-well, cavern-she was in was brightly lit. And the floor she was standing on was a perfectly flat plane of glossy, shining black. 

She turned to run and-couldn’t.  Her feet were glued to the floor. All of her was-no matter how she strained her muscles, she couldn’t muster the strength to move. As she started hyperventilating with panic, she became dimly aware that the colour of her suit was quite a bit darker than it had been when she arrived. Matching the floor, in fact. 

“Oh hello there! We really have to thank you for all the  **toys** you brought. Those quarantine protocols were  **such** a pain.”

One of the nanite dolls from the video..appeared. The floor rippled and she rose from it like a swimmer emerging from the pool. She had no mouth, but the same blonde scientist’s voice echoed through her suit’s comms. Her hand dripping the nanites as she ran it down Miranda’s chest. 

“Don’t worry, we’re  **very** grateful. We’re going to make you  **perfect** .”


	14. A Different Sort of Harem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pampered harem of bunny-girls get a drastic change in circumstances after a Wesari raiding fleet sacks the palace they're secluded in, get used to choking on horsecock.

Faleel blushed as her new husband led her through through the heavy cloth covering that barred the way to his harem. The most ancient and private part of the Amir’s palace, from now on it would be the only place she could dispense with the thick layers of cloth and veils now covering her young, lithe body. 

The other women of the harem-nearly a dozen of them, some nearly as old as the Amir, some only a year or two her senior, half of them showing some sign of pregnancy and none wearing more than translucent ‘veils’ trying and failing to do the job of lingerie-quickly set to working helping their newest member out of her clothing, while their husband sat back on a throne of overstuffed pillows and quickly threw off his own light robes. 

He was a good match for her family, but once she had gotten a chance to look at him Faleel certainly hadn’t complained. Not one of the soft old men-only a decade her senior, slim and devoid of fat, with tall, proud ears, toned abs and runner’s legs. And, going by the just-under-a-half-foot of manhood rising from his lap as layer after layer was pulled off to reveal undeniable proof of her soft, generously endowed femininity, she could see he was happy too. 

As some of the older woman pushed her forward, even as she tried to avoid looking him in the eyes, he reached out and grabbed her soft, heart-shaped ass in both hands, roughly pulling her onto his lap, letting her feel the heat of his manhood as it pressed against her belly, and then the folds of her virginal womanhood. Leaning up to whisper in her ear as he pulled her down onto him, she barely heard him over the shock. 

“Show me what a fine woman you are, my precious, and I shall carve your name in a barbarian’s heart.”

She rested her hands on his narrow shoulders as she road him, moaning in first pleasure and then-a minute or so later-in surprise as she felt him convulse and his warm seed pouring into her womb. She barely resisted groaning in disappointment as his softening shaft slipped out of her now well lubricated womanhood. 

As he leaned back, he ran a hand down her face with a satisfied smile. “Mmm, don’t worry, sweet thing. You will be very happy here.” Then, yawning, he pulled her down on top of him as one of the other girls dimmed the lights. 

* * *

Faleel’s new life was not at all what she had expected, really. Oh, parts of it were-she had all the silks and perfumes and delicacies she could desire, delivered on request from her husband’s chefs and artisans by blind, dead, and mute drones incapable of conveying any sort of corrupting messages or enticements. 

But it was so much more boring than she had imagined-the had been raised to expect a secluded life for herself, but she had expected it to include far more of her husband. He spent almost every night he was in the palace with them-and the simmering jealousy of the other girls made her very aware she was one of his favourites-but that didn’t mean much. Jewels and trophies from his hunts presented to her to make her swoon, a few minutes of frenzied lovemaking, and then falling asleep next to his warmth. 

He spent at least a few minutes every week talking with Vayne-his First Wife, trusted with managing the harem and telling him what they needed. And he sometimes spent hours in a corner with Shara-not even for anything romantic, since she was a stick with ears he hadn’t touched since their wedding night. But apparently she was some sort of genius with symbols and numbers, and he trusted her more than his own vizer. 

But Faleel was his favourite, his precious flower, and so she was the one he almost always chose to fall asleep safe in his strong arms. She wasn’t shy about rubbing that in all the other girl’s faces. Especially when it meant he let slip gossip and secrets from the world outside. 

And so, rubbing herself against his chest and moaning prettily as he ran his hand over her adorable tail, she paid close attention as he spoke dreamily, absent-mindedly rubbing a thigh against his soft, glistening cock in the hopes he might get enthused enough for another round. 

“You will have to do without me for the next weeks, my splendid treasure. I will be leaving my beautiful world for somewhere far less appealing?”  
“Has the Sultan called for you? A position at court?” She reached down and softly fondled his manhood a bit more directly with a coy smile “Couldn’t I convince you to take me with you?”  
That got a laugh out of him, pulling her against his chest as he replied “Oh my sweet thing where I go now would see your beauty wither away like a flower before the desert sun. Raiders have been seen beyond the sun’s light, and His Magnificence has already gathered his forces, leading us from victory to victory against the she-witches and soulless machines. I will see to them myself, and win glory for our house and the son you will bear me.”

Yawning, he leaned back on the pillows and closed his eyes, murmuring “Now rest your bosom against me, so I might dream I am already in paradise.” She managed not to twitch her ears in frustration at that, and tried not to be [i]too[/i] obvious as her hand sank beneath her thighs while he slept beneath her.

* * *

Faleel shivered and tried very hard not to sob as she hugged herself in the cold night air. The palace-and the city beyond it-were burning. A week after her love had left with all the ships and soldiers he so carefully maintained to defend his world, everything had gone wrong. Ugly, ramshackle ships burned as they descended from orbit, and misshapen, hulking barbarians had poured out of them and begun sacking the city. 

Of course, secluded as they were, none of the harem had known any of this. They had found out what was happening when the harem’s doors had hissed open and-surprised to see their husband so soon-the girls had run to the door and tried to look presentable. Instead, there was a trembling, defeated-looking man-going by his robes of office, Shara had called him the Vizer while damning him to ten thousand years of torture for his treachery-leading a half-dozen of the aliens. They stood so tall that the tips of his ears only reached their shoulders, and were so broadly built that she thought she would struggle to encircle any of their waists with both arms. 

The leader-obviously their savage chief, heavy gold rings piercing his equine snout and one of his exposed nipples, thick and gaudy bands of precious metals and jewelry running up one arm, a thick paunch and sagging flab on his arms doing nothing to lessen the respect the younger, more muscular brutes showed him-broke out in a braying laugh as he took in the girls, and the luxury that surronded them. Giving the vizer a clap on the back that nearly sent him sprawling, he gestured to his thugs. 

“He earn manhood. Let take what he carry and go.”

Looking over the girls-now frozen in fear, eyes locked on the massive, savage weapons in the half-nude aliens’ hands-he leered. “This room mine. Bring, keep my new mares, rest of palace for you.”

She had tried to bolt as one of them approached her-and he had grabbed her by the ear and broken out laughing as she cried out in pain. The rest of the girls had fared just as badly, if they tried to fight at all. 

Gripping her arm tightly enough to make her whimper, the equine alien dragged her roughly out to the central courtyard. Tearing off her silken robes with one brutal motion, he leered as he shoved her to the centre of the courtyard, the other girls-equally nude, equally in shock-joining her quickly. Most of the brutes turned to head back in the palace, but two stayed-one jeering as he gestured at his filthy, loincloth covered crotch. 

“Stay there, stay safe. Run, I teach you a lesson. Break you so bad the chief don’t want you no more.”

No one ran. Around them, piles of precious metals, ancestral relics, luxuriously inlaid tapestries, and other obviously valuable loot grew. The stallions carrying them not hiding their lustful glances and crude comments, but none trying to touch them. 

The Chief only returned hours later, accompanied by another alien dragging two serving girls with the extreme bad luck to be found hiding within his earshot. As they were stripped and thrown into the crowd of former royal wives, the Chief clapped his hand and gestured at them. 

“You mares of false man. I take his gold, I take his mares, I take his world. Now you mine. Run, and you my sons instead. Yes? False man fool, not mark mares. I do.”

When one of his thugs (his sons?) started walking towards her, Faleel froze up entirely. Utterly rigid, ears straight up, gasping for air and hoping it was all some twisted nightmare. Only Vayne trying to jump in front of her gave her a moment’s reprive. That earned the older bunnygirl a punch in the gut hard enough to leave her coughing and wheezing as she was dragged in front of him. A thick, sausage-like finger was crudely shoved between her legs, and before their eyes a savage looking machine was brought up and pressed against her ear. She let out a wail as it punched through, and when the nude First Wife was shoved stumbling back towards them, one ear had a heavy metal tag, heavy enough to drag it down until the weight was almost resting on her head. 

Faleel tried to run when the stallions started walked back towards them. But that just guaranteed she was next, dragged kicking and screaming while the aliens laughed. 

* * *

It had been six weeks, and her master was celebrating. Which meant she was squealing, her juices staining one of the largest cushions that had been dragged out of the harem and now provided the floor for the tent she shared with all his other mares. Each thrust of his massive, mind-breaking weapon of a flared cock into her needy cock left her toes curling and her eyes rolling back in her head, her noises almost loud enough to drown out the lewd slapping of his hips and gut against her ass, or the soft ringing of the golden bells permanently attached to her nipples and clit after her one and only attempt to run. 

She was thinner than she had been, and the bulge of his cock was obvious in her flat stomach as he slammed into her. He had been very happy with all the newer wives, after trying them the first night in that freezing courtyard. Said they were all as tight as virgins-and, given his cock must have been three times the size of anything they’d taken before, they basically were. 

He hadn’t even bothered to tie them up afterwards. None of them were in a state to walk. 

The women who had already born children weren’t quite so pleasing to fuck, apparently. Which meant he didn’t bother pacing himself. Vayne had tried to beg for mercy one too many times, and so been made an example of. Six weeks later, she already looked like she was months into carrying a full litter. And her punishment still wasn’t done-kneeling behind him as he brutally fucked the younger Viera, earning a shudder of pleasure from the hulking stallion as she shoved her tongue particularly deep into his ass. She going to lick his cock clean, afterwards. And any mess he left on the other girls. 

Still, both of them were lucky. Smart, anyway. Shara had tried to convince their guards to let her escape, and then to kill their Master and take his place. They still saw her soemtimes, on the rare occasions when they went outside. She spent most days in stocks put in the centre of the courtyard, the light basically gone from her eyes as anyone and everyone-from enslaved Viera ‘men’ to Master’s own sons- used her as a convenient set of holes to relieve themselves in, cleaned off with a harsh pressure-washer only when the dried cum was getting to thick to make out her features. 

So Faleel was a good bunny-mare, and her Master showed her what getting fucked was supposed to feel like. When he groaned and leaned forward to reach around and roughly maul her sensitive tits, slamming his flared cock against her womb and begining to flood her with his thick, fertile seed, she shuddered and cried out just as loudly. 

After Vayne had cleaned them both up, all his Viera mares were collared and brought outside-he wanted to show them something. The chains were uncomfortable and awkward, and designed to be-going from the collar of the girl furthest back, between the legs of the one in front of them and rising up to hook onto her collar as well. Then back down, and so on. With little enough slack that anyong going too fast or too slow meant the chain grinding against everyone’s well-fucked cunts at the same time their airways were cut off. Faleel always hoped someone would trip, deep down. 

There were eight of them, led behind their Master in two lines of four-not nearly his whole herd, but enough that even a Stallion who didn’t know him would show him respect. He led them through the ruins of the city, all the grand mansions now thoroughly looted and claimed as residences for different rich or powerful warriors, to where the spaceport had been combined with a slave market. 

They found out why very quickly. As she and another girl lovingly licked the sweat off of his soft, heavy shaft while he stood at the front of the crowd, he stamped a hoof and brayed loudly enough to get their attention. 

“Look, my new mare!”

It was a Viera ‘man’, slim and androgynous, crawling on all fours, bushy tail and tight ass swaying up in the air as the slave-driver pulled his leash. He flinched away whenever any real men so much as gestured towards him. And, when ordered, he turned and faced away from the crowd, gripping and spreading his cheeks to show how tight his hole was, and easy it was to ignore his cock. 

It was, she realized with a shock, her husband.

Then she felt her Masters cock begin to twitch and grow, and she had more important things to worry about.


	15. Critical Mission Failure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Attempt by some communist orcs to liberate their comrades from Wesari slavery goes...about as badly as it could have, really. But the lovely Aurelius_Carlan

They knew the risks. The Astral Horde had been encroaching upon them in bitter, desperate combat. The few times they had gotten a victory, they had gotten a good view of what awaited the female captives of them. But there had been an opportunity to target a 'warcamp' of one of the Warlords, filled with captives. And how could they refuse. It would have been a good boost to the morale of her comrades.

Things had not gone as planned. No mistakes. No secret plan. Simply a guard that had gone to piss at the wrong time, and had been able to get a shout off. That was all. After that, it was simply a matter of taking as many of them with them as they could.

As she lay there, bound and bruised on the ground, naked amoung her fellow commandoes. She had to give them one thing. When it came to capturing women, the Astral Horde was very, very eager. Of the 17 women in the unit, only 4 had died, the others more or less whole. And the worst was. The lucky fucker that had gotten them caught had even survived the whole thing A scar over his chest, but he'd survived. And now, now he was being rewarded by the war chief. She knew enough of their language to know what was being said.

“Dosar showed his sharp eyes! Dosar showed his brave heart. Dosar showed his strength! I, Forlan, say that he will get a reward, worthy of a warrior!”

Dosar stood there, cheered by his fellows. There was never a question. “I will have these mares for my harem. I am young and I am manly and want their cunts and wombs for my own!”

There ws a loud cheer, and the chief spoke. “Are you able to handle these women! Are you man enough?”

Dosar hadn't answered, simply ripped off his loincloth and showed his erect cock. That seemed to be all the reply that was needed. 

One of the guards came to the circle. She was closest to him. She could have tried to shy away, but she was a Revolutionary commando. She gave him a death glare as she got grabbed and hauled over her shoulder. She watched her fellows watch in rage and horror.

At the center were stocks, wth hole for her arms. Not too far away from it, a branding iron. There to mark her as 'property'. Worse than the simple violations. Two guards untied her arms first, forcibly getting them in the holes. The horses knew that the Drakon were strong, and very eager to use their strength in defiance. Regretably, as she had no chance to even get a punch in before she was secured. The bar between her ankles similarly was placed without opportunity for a kick.

She was on a platform, with a clear view of the others, and the others would have a clear view on her. She saw crowds of them leering at her, some in envy. Some of the others had the very people she tried to save. Branded. Kneeling. Some of them restrained and clearly resistant. Others, ones that were visibly pregnant seemed resigned, not even watching the 'show' rather licking at their 'owner's balls as they seemed to get excited.

Her view was soon blocked by Dosar, more specifically, his large horse cock. He placed a large, crude clam on her head, forcing her mouth wide open. Her sharp teeth unable to bite down. He grinned down at her, grabbing the single braid on her otherwise bald head as she hatefully glared up at him. In the meantime, someone was touching her in the back. Presumably branding her. He pressed his balls up against her mouth, and called to the crowd. “Just warming up my little swimmers”

That at least was a relief. They'd made a deal with some Asari Traders. A way to prevent even the horse's seed from impregnating her. It didn't save her from getting thick horse balls crammed in her mouth, and the foul, musky taste getting on her tongue. The sweaty, thick cock rubbing all over her face, leaving that stink on her., one of her eyes forced closed to void the pre.

And then there was something pressing between her netherlips. Something that felt vaguely familiar from her pre-mission sterilization. And even as there was a heat rising between her legs, it was like ice growing between her stomach. Her new 'owner' took the device from her assistant. The symbol on it had the mark of the Asari Republic.

“Hah, the Blue bitches with cocks told us you had tried to make yourself broken women, my mare. She gave us a good deal! You'll carry my seed, woman, and more... you will come.”

She screamed at him in rage as he walekd behind her, though the scream became a moan, as the aphrodisiacs were kicking in. She tried to resist it, but felt her sex heat. And all in front of her, she saw the crowds screaming, cheering for her to be bred.

When that cock entered her, crudely, roughly, she couldn't help but moan out, feeling that overly thick shaft spread her sex. She was a powerfully built woman, but this was still too much. Why then did it feel so good. She tried to hold back the moans. Tried to think that it was just a chemical, tried to focus on the huge crowds that were watching there. Tried even to think of the fact that she was about to get a foal put into her. It mattered not, her body was only moaning increasingly louder. She saw the despair on the face of the people she hoped to rescue, and the laughing faces of the horsefolk.

Three thrusts before he did, she came, screaming out in a loud and desperate climax. Still shuddering when a thick, stinking flood of thick horsecum filled her. She was left sobbing in her stocks as he pulled out, cum dripping down her legs.

“I have claimed this broodmare!” Dosar shouted behind him. “Now she shall bear my mark.”

And that is what she remembered the brand, two seconds before the heated iron touched the skin of her asscheeks, and she screamed in agony, as her flesh was marked... like any of the others near her. When she was released, her limbs weren't bound, nor did they have to, she barely had the strength to stand. A leather collar was attached to her neck, with a cord going to a lot of other leather collars.

She looked to the side to see Dosar march back to the group of captured Darkons, his cock dripping, but still hard. Mercifully, she lost conscious.

…

“Ouch.” She winced as her firstborn was biting at her nipple with his fresh teeth in his quest for milk. She really wished she could tell him not, but she was not allowed to enact any discipline on any of the children. Derak wasn't even hers, but well, all of them were pretty much always lactating, so it didn't matter. She groaned as there was a kick in her belly. The one in her womb was as gentle as the one on her tit.

Ever since that day they were captured, they were now 'Dosar's harem'. She knew that they believed that by making people drink their cum, they became more obedient. No evidence had ever been found, but she thought she understood now why. When every disobedience is punished by a stomach full of thick, vile chewable cum... and denial of any other food. You either obey... or you die.

Some of her team had chosen to die. Less than you might expect. There is no honour in slowly starving to death while getting filled with vile horsecum, over and over. The rest of them had … endured. What was once a group of trained warriors became a 'household'. They were rarely allowed to leave the filtthy abode the guard called home, sleeping tightly against eachother on a room with rags as their cushion.

They weren't allowed to touch weapons or much tools. The only thing they got to do was to clean, cook, look after the children and make themselves look good. And of course, on any 'public occasions' follow him on a leash so he could show off his harem. Sometimes he let people use the 'friend's entrance'. Considering the womb was only for him, because of the breeding, and of course, their mouths were only for him to make sure they were obedient, that meant their asses were getting pounded. Sometimes they were ordered to 'play' with eachother for putting up a show. They didn't seem to count that as sex at all. She'd grown closer to her team in that way at least.

But there was one job that was most important. And as she smelled the distinct scent of her stallion. (over the years she'd gotten the difference in scents) and caleld it out to her fellow broodmares, the children quickly put into the nursery.' . They went to the specific place, each in a line squatting with thier sex and bellies and tits visible, and their mouths open, ready for him to enter the home. Their first duty was to see that he had mares ready to fuck the moment he entered the house. All of them looking up at him.

He grinned widely. “Ah... good mares. All eager for my cock. It's been three days since I've filled you. You must be dying for it. Now which one first.” 

He walked past them, holding his cock as if letting him guide it, each of them following it with their eyes. Then his eyes settled on her, and he stood forward, putting his balls into her mouth. She eagerly started suckling on them, the sweaty disgusting taste no longer any kind of surprise there

“Yes, you're eager for my cock aren't you breeding bitch.”

And as she felt her sex moisten, and her heart leap at the thought of being roughly fucked by that thick cock, she wondered if there was perhaps more to the rumours about Wesari cum than she thought.

And then she stopped thinking and just lost herself in the taste and smell of her owner.


End file.
